Domestic Bliss
by Negare
Summary: From the outside they're the perfect couple, but such appearances can be deceptive. Content not really suitable for kiddies. Last few chapters REALLY not kid friendly.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's NB: **I was sitting on a quiet ward waiting for something to happen, but nothing to exciting, nothing worse then managing a heart attack at 2 in the morning. I started thinking about Transformers, then Optimus and Elita's ill-gotten relationship came into my head. Prime seems to ooze "I'm so perfect, I never make mistakes, and if I do they are more then acceptable and everyone laughs and forgets about it in half an episode's time". Don't get me wrong, Optimus is an awesome leader and a good mech, and a far sight better then Rodimus, but I generally don't trust individuals who come across as so pristine. Elita, well, she seems to good to be true as well, the dutiful femmebot waiting for her man to return, keeping the home fires burning with her girlfriends. Something doesn't seem right in the world of bonded bliss.

And usually if something is too good to be true, especially a relationship, it usually is.

**Warning: disturbing themes, implied rape/domestic violence/language/emotional torture. **

(Yeah, you can figure out where this story is going from the warning).

**Chapter One**

"DAMMIT! You ill gotten troll! What the Pit is wrong with you!!"

"YOU! You're what's wrong with me! You want to just walk out on me and go on this fucking little adventure of yours! Did you ever stop to think about me?"

"Oh, that's right, _I forgot, _ it's always about Elita, poor, misunderstood, ignored and forgotten Elita One commander of the female Autobots!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"Well, there we have it femmes and gentle-mechs, Elita's highly intelligent and well thoughtout response! Is that how you think you're going to beat Shockwave? How you're going to crush the entire Decepticon empire, with _Fuck You_. Of course, that's probably what you will do, isn't it? Once I'm gone you'll scuttle your way into every berth that's got an opening, and you'll splay those skinny little legs of yours and…"

*SLAP*

There was a horrid moment of silence. The tension between them was vicious, the kinds of viciousness that led to awful actions. Elita knew better then to try and fight Prime off when he got like that, she knew better then to even utter the word "no". It didn't get her anywhere, it wouldn't make him stop. He'd do what he wanted and when he was finished he'd curse her out if she was lucky, beat her if she wasn't.

She went away into the recesses of her CPU, away from the violent mech she'd found herself with. She wasn't sure what had happened, he had never been like this, certainly not when he was Orion, although, with that said, Aerial would have loved to have been slapped around by the likes of Optimus, even the current event transpiring against her will between her legs was something that would have gotten her pistons firing.

So, lying on the floor, that arsehole on top of her, she tried to fabricate yet another excuse why she had those unpleasant and frightening looking dents.

Somewhere in his CPU he was aware of what he was doing, of the implication of it, of just how traumatic it was, how repugnant it was, how devastating it was – and not just to her. But that part of his CPU had long since been silenced by her constant nagging, she would peck at him, cycle after cycle until his frustrations had come to a head. She'd made some comment about how he spent so much time with Ironhide that if she didn't know better she'd say he was a robosexual. Inside he was aware of a snap and before he could stop it a balled fist had left several large dents in her face and a shattered optic. He of course had apologised profusely and assisted her to the repair bay. He'd wondered what punishment or social chastisement would befall him when the truth that he'd battered his femme came out. But Elita saved him, his reputation, and later he realised, her's, they were engaged in some play 'facing, it was getting hot and steamy and the all the usual when she stood to do a little dance on the berth, she lost her balance and her optic made contact with the edge of the berth side table. The giggling, the smile, the undamaged bright optic made the Autobot medic chuckle and felll for it all. Thank Primus Ratchet had been away on the battle lines outside of the city of Ta'ra'Nor, he would never had believed that bullshit.

Part of him wanted to stop.

But that part was too small, too insignificant, too well controlled by the baser parts to be of issue.

He liked to do this to her. To punish her. It shut her up. It put her in her place. Told her who was boss. And most importantly, it felt really good.

After he stood and they performed the "after" seniaro that they'd played through so many times.

"Now, see what you went and made me do? You know I can't control myself when you get all mouthy. I don't want to do it you know, but when you make me so mad, well, I can't be held accountable for my actions. You need to remember that, Elita, it was your fault".

The pink femme sat on the ground, her armour scattered about her in a disturbing testament to the relationship she was trapped in, face drawn down, optics heavy with an internal grief she would never dare express.

"You're right, Prime, I'm sorry, please forgive me".

"Nothing to forgive. Now, I'm going, I have a meeting with Jazz to discuss the launch. You stay here".

The last part wasn't a suggestion.

And with that he was gone. The broad blue and red shoulders disappeared into the darkness that lay in the corridor outside their quarters.

She rolled over onto her side and bought her legs up and began to sob hysterically. Another part of the play after such an event.

Only this part was a solo performance.

--

**Author's NB: **People, rape in marriage and in any "relationship" is still rape. It is damaging and just as painful to the woman as a stranger pulling her into a dark alley. There is nothing right or justified about this horrid crime and if you're in a relationship where this is happening to you, get help. Do whatever you can to find it, if people don't believe you or don't care, keep trying until you find someone who does.

If you're in a violent relationship, get out, because it will only esculate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"You think you can just march in here and announce you're leaving? Announce that you're only going to be gone a few vorns and when you return the war will be over? You think you can just treat me like some little house wife who will sit dutifully by the door your slippers and cap in hand with a warm pot of energon stew bubbling away in the kitchen? You think you can just de-armour me whenever you want and expect to not have to deal with the other more complicated sides of our bond?"

"Complicated sides of our bond? Are you serious? Can you hear yourself?"

"What I hear is a mech who doesn't know how good he's got it!!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

Prime put his hands over his belly, threw his head back and laughed loudly.

"Are you serious? I can have any femme I want, bitch!"

"And I bet you have too!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you don't think femmes talk? You don't think that some tramp will mouth off to another one of her equally trampy friends about what she got up to with the leader of the Autobot forces?"

His optics narrowed at her accusation and for a moment she thought he was going to strike her again, or something else. It'd been eight cycles since the most recent attack and during that time he'd been tied up in meetings with other officers, discussing the logistics of their search for energon. But he did nothing. He just stood there and stared at her intently.

"I'm sorry, Elita. I don't want to fight, I'm sick of coming home to this".

He waved his hand in front of him, palm down, optics down.

"And you think its easy for _me_? I'm sure Chromia stopped believing my excuses for those dents and scratches vorns ago. I have troops to command, missions to organise, soldiers to send to their deaths, I know what you're going through, I have the same burdens?"

"THE PIT YOU DO!!"

He stood up from where he sat screaming, he backhanded her with such force she lost her balance and collapsed to the floor.

"YOU AND YOUR STUPID LITTLE GIRL FRIENDS HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT THE BURDEN OF LEADERSHIP IS!!"

He roared as he started to kick her, she instinctively held her hands up to her face and tucked her legs up to her chest.

"YOU ORDER AROUND, WHAT, FOUR, FIVE TOPS OF THOSE SILLY SLUTS PLAYING SOILDER AND YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHAT THE BURDEN OF LEADERSHIP IS???"

He'd been at this stage before, felt this rage, this anger, this… hate?

He stopped suddenly and turned to the window and walked towards it stopping momentarily to glance down at a few splashes of energon – her's.

"Oh baby, you should know once I get going I can't hold back on my anger".

He turned back to her and embraced her quivering form in his violent arms.

"You forgive me, don't you baby?"

He whispered softly in her audio, she nodded between her frightened sobs.

Those bulky fingers that had caused much pain brushed with a feigned gentleness over her chassis until they found the latches that would open up to him, and him alone, a few moments of lustful pleasure, he flicked them and he revealed her. She tensed, waiting for the violation but it didn't arrive. A radio transmission interrupted his actions. She was aware of it being a private communication, one he wouldn't share with her.

He stood momentarily and pushed her roughly down, her chest armour still clinging by one stubborn – and previously damaged – latch.

"We'll finish this later, whore".

And with that he left.

--

Elita walked the corridors of her base with a confidence and presence that was never seen in the privacy of her marriage. There were more then "four or five" femmes under her command, and everyone that past her in those long snaking halls would nod with respect or greet her with friendship.

She found Chromia sitting behind a series of computer screens in the main chamber, a large rifle being polished by her war weary hands.

"Elita".

Chromia said matter of factly, to anyone else it would have come across as cold.

"I think the Autobots will be ready for launch in less then a hexi-cycle".

Chromia said as she pushed the cloth down the nozzle and removed the dried smoke.

"Yes, I have heard they are nearing their mission launch".

She said firmly, but of course, she knew very little, Prime didn't want her to know and if Prime didn't want her to know then she wouldn't, bond mate or not. How Chromia had come to have a timetable was probably due to berth talk with her own partner, which annoyed Elita… no, Elita thought, annoyed wasn't the right word. Jealous was.

"Has Ironhide decided on whether he will stay?"

She asked her second, of course Chromia wasn't just a solider or a lieutenant, she was her closest friend and so Elita could get away with asking such questions.

"Not really, I'm going to guess he won't figure out what he wants until the last moment, but I'd put my ener-creds on him going. He wants the war to end, and his friendship with Prime goes back further then ours".

"Have you thought about whether you will accompany him?"

"I'd love to go, Elita, but word around the base that while its not official, Prime has ordered no femmes".

"Oh, _really_?"

"Yeah, has he said anything to you about it?"

"Not really, he's been very quiet on this subject, but I'd wager it's because he wants us to stay safe. There's a large deal of Intel that the 'cons have wind of it and may launch a counter strike on initiation".

"Con bastards".

The pastel blue femme growled.

"Mind you, knowing the list of soldiers Prime wants to take, femmes would only prove a distraction, bonded to another or not".

Elita said, her voice carrying its usual firmness.

"Are you worried, Elita?"

Chromia said suddenly, a rare softness coming into her vocaliser.

"This is a war, Chrome, I'm always worried. Especially when my husband wants to go gallivanting around the universe looking for fuel to continue this damn war. Nothing would make me happier if Prime ripped out Megatron's CPU and this thing would end".

"You really think it'll end with Megatron's offlining?"

"Not immediately, they'll regroup of course, but Megatron managed to keep all factions under the 'con banner, but with the likes of Shockwave and Starscream chances are we'd be facing several weaker groupings but they'd pull our resources in different directions, weakening us in the process".

Elita sat herself down in the seat next to Chromia and the two sat still in silence for a few moments, both in their own minds contemplating the process of war and what it meant to their lives.

"Ironhide and I have been _trying_".

"Trying for what?"

Elita replied without really clicking on to what she was saying.

"You know… _trying_".

It took only another moment before the pink commander figured it out.

"Oh my Primus! Really! Congratulations!"

"Hey, hey, congratulate me when I fall".

The two chuckled and then embraced.

"But its just not working right now, and I'd really hoped it'd have happened by now".

"Well, you only have a few more cycles before he leaves".

"Yeah… I was kinda hoping I'd fall before the launch… then maybe he'd stay. I mean, don't get me wrong, he needs to go, for the benefit of all of us, but I don't care about all of us when its this subject".

She looked down at her rifle, pausing in its cleaning, she sounded almost ashamed for her thoughts.

"There's nothing selfish wanting your bond mate to remain, to want a family, even in times of war. If anything I envy you, all I can concentrate on is the war, and that's all Prime seems to be interested in".

"Commander, sorry for bothering you, but a message is coming in for you from Alpha".

The two high ranked femmes turned on their seats to see the young Autobot enter.

"I wonder what he's after".

Chromia asked, her distain for the old patriarch was not well hidden, and nor did she care if it was.

Elita stood ignoring Chromia's comment, excused herself and then went to her private office.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The pompous windbag had given her the usual passive aggressive spiel about how her and her soldiers were valued members of the Autobot faction and that they needed to be more active in missions, especially those under the control of Mechs. There were a few comments about the "value" of femmes and the "delicacy" of them.

Basically, the dented old bastard had told her that femmes needed to know their place, and their place was as a piece of property belonging to some lusting Autobot mech, who was a hero doing _real _work to bring the war to an end. The femme's primary purpose was not to a delicate performer of gymnastics or an agile spy, but as something to provide pleasure to their male counterparts.

Bastard.

He'd gone on to give her a few "suggests", aka, orders regarding who she had to send her femmes too and who she had to report too and then their communication ended.

"Lot on your CPU, Commander?"

"Always…"

The smile she forced onto her face plates did not match up with the sullen tone of her voice. He may he have been a young chap and may have been naïve in the ways of covertly telling you one thing when meaning another, but he had picked up on that much. But given by the look on his optics he might have just concluded she needed a decent recharge.

"If I may say so, Commander, I saw your speech you delivered after the battle of Conix".

"Oh yes…"

She recalled the rather vicious battle which had resulted in Prime dolling out a jealous couple of blows as it was her who had led the victorious charge. It wasn't that long ago.

"I thought it was very inspiring. I got a lot of femme friends and I'm glad they have a place in this war, cos, well, you know, Primus knows we need every servo we can get, and femmes have servos just as sturdy as us mechs".

"Indeed".

"Anyway, I was wondering, I'm kinda looking for a new battle experience, learn some new techniques, I was wondering if maybe, you know, you could see your way to letting me tag around with a few of your patrols. I won't be any problem, I promise, and I have recommendations from my tutors at the academy… see".

He fumbled with a digipad that he pulled from subspace and he handed it to her. She glanced it over while the young mech stood nervously.

"Very impressive… I see you have a few spots next to your name…"

"Just for silly little things… pranks… really…"

He realised he had interrupted her, and figuring that was probably not a good thing he went quiet. She raised an optic ridge.

"I understand".

Part of her was impressed with his courage, not a lot of mechs, especially young ones would approach her to ask for an assignment with a group of unruly, undisciplined femmes (as that hard aft Magnus had phrased), part of her was annoyed for the interruption to her inter monologue insulting that ancient crack pot, but the part that won out, the part that sealed his fate for a few vorns with said group of femmes – it might stand them in good stead with the mech forces if a mech was in their ranks, even in just a witnessing role.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm".

She began; he looked down at the floor thinking this was the part where she'd turn him away.

"I have considered crafting a new role, a liaising position, actually, you probably wouldn't see a lot of active combat, but I need a mech, with your _qualifications _and enthusiasm to liaise between my team and the Autobots. You'd detail reports and ensure that trade lines between our bases remain functioning, not to mention free of Con notice. It won't be the most exciting thing you ever do, but it would stand you in good stead if you ever wanted a leadership position".

"Oh no, Ma'am, I'm happy as a grunt, wouldn't' want to go anywhere near the brass… no offence".

"None taken".

"But yeah, I'll take the position. It'll be great to be working with a different group of people for a change".

"Well, if you excuse me, I must be off".

She handed back his digipad.

"I will draft something up by the end of the cycle and have it sent to you where you can attest to it, then it'll go onto the high command".

"Awesome!"

"A level of weariness is advised, just because I said so doesn't mean the High Command will think it's a good idea – they're not big fans of my little outfit. Which is why your role, if acceptable, would be so beneficial".

"No problem! Heck, just to be considered, and accepted by _you_ that means so much to me, Elita, ma'am. Thanks so much!!"

"Haha, well, thank you, well, I best be on my way, I hope to see you posted here shortly, Hot Rod".


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, bearer of the matrix stood before three of his lieutenants, arms crossed over his broad chest, head downcast, he was inwardly unimpressed at the latest development.

"We guessed this might happen, so we actually made considerations for it while this was in the planning stage".

Prowl explained.

"Yeah, Prowl's right, boss bot. There's stuff in place to make sure we can still launch according to schedule, we just gotta do a bit more work".

Jazz added, noting how well Prime was hiding his irritation. This plan, this launch to search out new energy sources had been his "child", his "pet project" and it was obvious to all he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. The ABHC had been negative at first; stating that it was a dangerous move to have the only current Prime leave with some of their best troops and strategists, claiming if something went wrong then it'd deal a damaging blow to their movement. Of course, Prime had counted; any battle on Cybertron would result in the same thing. Prime of course had a long list of reasons why to launch and had well thought out arguments against those in the "no" camp.

"I've re-worked the rosters, Prime; all we have to do to insure launch happens on schedule is increase all shifts by two thousand midi-clicks".

Ironhide offered the Autobot commander a digipad. Prime took it, looked at it.

"This will lower morale".

"Yes, in the interim, it will probably cause some level of grumbling, but it can't be worse then when we had to cancel all leave for twelve cycles".

Prowl added.

"Ensure all troops are given an extra seven cycles to their leave allocation and that they are given one half increase on their recreational rations".

He looked over his troops, his optics gleamed momentarily and he gave them some excuse as to why he had to leave, he bid them fare well and off he went.

"He took that well".

Jazz stated.

"You be in this mess as long as Prime you'll learn blowing your stack ain't gonna do nothing to help".

Ironhide drawled.

"We all have duties. Let us attend to them instead of contemplating on Prime's emotional ability to deal with slight draw backs".

Prowl turned and began walking off towards his own jobs for the cycle.

--

On his way back to his office Prime was bothered by numerous Autobots asking for numerous things. Bumblebee had finished a 200 page report detailing while it would be statically viable for him to be stationed to the Ark's crew, his 200 long pages could be truncated down into one easy statement.

I'm a spy. You always need spies.

Prime told him, with a large grin oozing in the tone of his voice, bright optics and a light clap on the shoulder that Bumblebee was indeed correct and there couldn't be a mission without him, _friend_. Then he told Bumblebee he'd draft the orders by the end of the day, but in the mean time to report to Jazz for an Ark placement duty – which caused the little yellow minibot to grin, almost insanely, of course. He didn't have knowledge that "Ark placement duty" meant "cleaning waste dispensers" or "scrubbing" or some horrible job that was doled out to those with a particular skill that wasn't all encompassing, or always needed. He'd have to make himself useful while he wasn't off spying.

There was Bluestreak who was trying to get out of the Ark mission, claiming he was needed on Cybertron. Prime knew inwardly that it was due to Bluestreak's desire to get revenge and he wouldn't' find that on some space shift drifting through space looking for energon. Prime gave some mundane comment about needing his "skills" and that the Ark was going to be a hodgepodge of many Autobots with many different skills.

_Strategic diversity, Bluestreak, strategic diversity._

Was what he had said that had quietened down the traumatised mech.

A few femmes approached, and he simply disregarded their arguments that femmes would be a viable option onboard. He gave the usual "it'll be a distraction to the mechs", "it wouldn't be fair to bring single femmes when there are so many bonded who can't take their mates", "you're needed here", "we'll be gone an indeterminate amount of time and I don't want to be responsible for any fractures".

One femme, however, caught his optic as she walked away in a huff. She was a slender girl maybe a few million years old, old enough to know things, younger then the dried up husk he found himself coming home to at night. Her colouring was unusual for an Autobot femme, black, grey with dark blue accents. Her optics were green, a very unusual colouring indeed – perhaps she'd once been a neutral as a lot of them had green optics.

"You".

He had bellowed, though it still sounded less like an order, and more of an amused curiosity.

She stopped, turned.

"I'd like to speak with you. Tell your friends you will catch up with them".

She didn't have to tell them, they heard well enough and shrugged, moving on.

"What about, Sir?"

"About your purpose in the ranks".

"I'm a low level pilot, I fly supply runs mostly".

She said.

"A job where femmes are rarely placed".

He expressed, more to himself then to her.

"IS that all sir?"

She asked, inpatient, and not at all wooed over his power or position. He was a bonded mech, and her high morality taught her that he was off limits. Of course, had he not been bonded she still would have ignored him. It was no secret amongst femmes that Prime was a bit of a bastard, a mech who was ruled by the old school of thought about the position of femmes.

"Tell me, do you have a bond mate?"

He asked.

How inappropriate! Her internal monologue growled.

"No".

She managed to hide her disgust.

"Oh, well, that's good because I'd hate to break the heart of a mech by sending his wife on a dangerous mission".

"What sort of dangerous mission?"

She asked. She may have only done a rather mundane job, one that bought no glory or honour to her, and kept attention on brave Autobot mechs as opposed to a lowly femme trying to play with the big bots. That job had been assigned to her and she hated it. She would rather be on the battle field, so she shoved aside her anger at his sexism, her interest perked.

"Accompany me to my office, I have the mission brief there, and its certainly not something that should be discussed in such an open environment".

Ruled by the sensation she may get a "real" mission, she followed him.

--

She had to re-read the brief at least three times to truly grasp its concept, the concept that this _was_ a real mission, a mission she was being offered, a mission she could use to prove her value as both a warrior and as a femme.

"What do you think?"

Prime asked rather cutely as he sat back in his large chair.

The femme managed to hide her excitement and replied appropriately:

"I feel this mission would utilise my skill as a warrior…"

He chuckled at the word "warrior", but let her continue, she ignored it, but to him she was just a silly girl who didn't pick up on the giggle.

"… it is well thought out, has a good skill mix and I can see I will be an asset to this mission. When do I dispatch?"

Optimus smiled under his mask, but his optics relayed his grin. He stood slowly and gingerly traced his fingers along the edge of his desk, his optics focussed on them. It looked… suggestive.

She stood firm as he came to stand behind her.

"There is always a need in the Autobot ranks to ensure the correct bot is sent on a mission… I need to know that you're the correct bot… this mission is dependant on secrecy… can _you_ keep a secret?"

He asked.

He was touching her now, his mammoth hands on her hips, his fingers pointing down towards what he wanted. She shuddered with distain against his grip. He ignored it and slid his hands upwards till he was fumbling around with the latches of her chassis.

"Please… stop".

She spoke softy, if she had increased her volume it might have been forceful enough to discourage him, but a part of her, the part that was now in control, wanted that mission and if it meant she had to compromise those beliefs against adultery, those beliefs against shagging above her rank, then so be it.

"You want this mission, don't you?"

He whispered hoarsely into her audios.

"Yes… but".

"But NOTHING!!"

The whisper became a roar and he broke the latches clean off, the chest armour falling to the ground with a loud clang, she focussed on that and not the greasy hands that were rubbing over her nakedness.

"I'm not interested in whether you enjoy this, if you want the mission you will make sure _I _will enjoy this!"

His right hand cupped her groin and squeezed tightly, crushing the armour covering, he tore it straight off her, the latches offering no resistance, he flung it across the room where a sharp corner impaled into the wall.

He took what he wanted and she let him.

He had no intention of giving her that mission.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her name, and if she had said it, he didn't care and wouldn't bother trying to remember.

The only thing he said during his savagery was:

"So much softer then that whore".

She was too far away for her CPU to associate whore with Elita.

After he pushed her out of his office, still naked, crying, he barked an order at the male secretary to:

"Get rid of that _filth"._

The next time he would see those unusual green optics they would be at the end of a rifle, a Decepticon insignia brazened on a stronger looking chassis.

--

**Author's NB: **I've always taken "cycle" to mean "day" as it implies a rotational cycle of the planet – well, that's my take on it.

I'm no fan of writing smut, but I feel its required for the brutality of this story, I just feel the point can be put across without the "all bets are off" kind of descriptive that some stories here include.

Believe it or not, there is an underlying plot I'm building in. There's not point of me just writing chapter after chapter of horrific violence without a purpose.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"This… _set back_, has it been resolved?"

"Yes Sir".

"I see".

"We think it may have been sabotage".

"Decepticon?"

"No sir, our intel is strong in the opinion that the Decepticons have no knowledge of the launch".

"Perhaps… But I'd wager if the 'cons knew about this launch they'd try and stop it at the last possible moment to inflict the most damage both to the physical structure and to the morale of the troops".

"They've certainly played like that before, sir".

"Of course, now… is it still going to schedule?"

"Yes sir, plus or minus a few mili seconds".

"But no more then a full cycle either side?"

"Unlikely to be delayed that much, sir, but there's no way any of us can be 100%".

"Agreed. But I want us to be as close to 100% as possible. Is the crew list confirmed?"

"Yes sir, I have it for you now".

"Hmmm…. You're going?"

"I have no choice, Sir; Prime would be suspicious if I suddenly pulled out now".

"The High Command knows?"

"Yes sir".

"And their opinion?"

"Much the same as yours, but Alpha Trion has ensured they don't vote against the last resolution".

"The final vote is in three cycles, correct?"

"Yes sir".

"Have a discussion with your contacts, ensure the vote is in our favour".

"Of course sir".

"Does he suspect anything?"

"No, sir, he has no reason too".

"What of the femme question?"

"Elita suspects no hidden agenda, and the general femme ranks are annoyed that they are denied service on this mission".

"What of Prime's recent _indiscretions_?"

"We've pushed it under the rug, as the expression is said. CMO Ratchet attended to the femme, he knows what he knows from the injuries as to the mechanism of injury, but he doesn't know Prime was responsible. The femme has, thankfully, gone quiet. We have sent her into the Decepticon ranks. I have a contact in their femme grouping who is happy to take her in".

"So if she does start speaking and the truth comes out, no one will believe her, it'll simply be considered the blatant lies and propaganda of the Decepticon war machine and a disgruntled traitor".

"That's the general idea, sir".

"Primus, what a hell of a PR nightmare it'd be if the truth did come out".

"Well, we're taking care of that, sir. Our vorns of planning are nearing an end, he'll be off Cybertron soon and we can really concentrate our efforts against the Decepticons then, sir".

"Only we won't have you amongst those efforts".

"I'm just one cog in the machine, my replacement, is already trained enough to take over once I'm gone".

"And who will replace you in your marriage?"

"My bond mate understands the purpose of this mission…"

"That is to say the public purpose of this mission".

"Granted. But she is has a rather liberal conversational availability, I fear she could let something slip if she knew the real reason. And if something adverse should happen to the Ark, then she'd have no concerns finding a new mate once she has traversed the grieving process".

"Did you hear Ironhide and Chromia are attempting to create a sparkling?"

"Yes, sir, I had heard that in passing".

"If they don't succeed before the launch she may never have a sparkling to him".

"That is only logical, sir. But I feel you are basing that theory on the prospect of the Ark being lost".

"I apologise, but I must feel some responsibility for destroying so many families with intent of removing Prime".

"It must be done. This is about numbers, Sir. If we do not remove Prime then his actions will destroy many more families. And what he does to his own bond mate, if nothing else, the salvation of Elita will be well worth any other damage this mission initiates".

"I'm sure you're right".

"Sir, I'm sure we could discuss such matters till the second coming of Primus, but I must attend to my other duties. And my calculations would indicate that to anyone one watching, the length of time needed to discuss this particular mission brief would be met".

"Agreed. Dismissed".


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

There was an air of excitement that was felt easily through the base, especially felt by those who were on the crew manifesto. Bumblebee was delighted, he had been telling all his friends and families and his little girlfriend all about his exciting adventure that he would soon be going on. Jazz carried himself with a more upbeat demeanour then usual. Even Red Alert was excited – if only because he was going to have a whole new environment to initiate security measures.

Even those femmes whose bond mates would be leaving on the Ark had a twinge of elation passing through their servos. Part of it was pride, part of it was a longing for the end of the war, and part of it, just a tiny part, was hope that maybe Prime would yield and let them attend. Of course, that would never happen.

In less then five cycles the Ark would launch and the wait would begin, but it was a hopeful wait. The Decepticons might be able to attack their cities and burn their buildings and kill their mechs, but they couldn't extinguish their hope.

"Five cycles, sir".

Prowl and Magnus stood on the launch pad staring up at the large shuttle before them.

"What stage have the workers reached?"

"Its basically just a few final systems checks and loading supplies. Ratchet was irritated due to the colouring of his med bay; he said it was inconsistent with research finding that florescent orange is not calming to the injured".

"Are his complaints founded?"

"No sir, I'd wager his complaints are based on not wanting to leave his medical facility here".

"Understandable".

"Of course, sir".

"What do you know of him?"

"Ratchet: designation Chief medical officer, lecturer at the academy's medical and repair division, known to have a non existent bed side manner, but his faults end there. He is dedicated to the Autobot cause, beyond a doubt. And if I may be so bold as to assume, sir, your suspicions are unfounded, he is no traitor, and wouldn't try to derail this mission".

"Excellent. Excellent. Continue to monitor the situation… and I don't mean the launch".

Prowl nodded in acknowledgment and was dismissed.

Magnus stood there and silently took in the vastness of the Ark and what it meant for the Autobot cause.

"Magnus! My friend! What brings _you_ down here?"

The city commander turned and faced, with a smile, the Prime.

"I wanted to see the Ark for myself, while she was mounted on the railings".

"Stunning, isn't she! I just hope the 'cons don't get wind of this. But we're just loading and soon we'll be ready to launch".

Prime held his hands up towards the vessel.

"Prime! What happened to your knuckles?"

Magnus asked, feigning surprise at the small dents and scratches in the knuckles on his right hand.

"Oh, that".

He held his hand up in front of his optics and was able to see the evidence of his "disciplinary methods" on his bond mate.

"I was sparring with the practice bot, and it got a bit… _rough_. I don't think Wheeljack was too happy to be repairing the damage I did".

"Ah, yes, those are a good way to work out the stress".

Magnus added.

"Well, I have supplies I need to check on. I'm going to go over the weaponry with Ironhide; did you hear he and Chromia are _trying_?"

"Oh, yes. I had heard that. Pass on my best wishes to them for success".

"I will do that, my friend. Now, if you could do one thing for me".

"Of course, Optimus".

"There's rumours going around the femmes, about certain officers who are rather rambunctious, its damaging to their bonds, I want it to stop. See if you can find out who started this maliciousness".

"I was unaware of such rumours, but I don't' tend to follow such circles. I will investigate and have a report by the time of the launch".

"Yes, thank you, I knew I could count on you, Magnus. Only five more cycles!"

Prime was definitely in a good mood.

Ultra Magnus smiled uncomfortably, but this was not noticed by Optimus as he had turned his back and was walking over towards the docking structures.

--

"Got some bad new for ya, Prime".

"Oh, and what's that?"

"We need to push the launch back at least three cycles".

"Why?"

"The flux capacitor hasn't arrived yet, and Perceptor reports that when it does arrive it'll be another day for some component to be installed".

"Well, we do need the FC, and Perceptor does know what he's talking about. Is everything else ready to go?"

"Sort of, Prime, the FC would have gone in first to be locked into the aft wall of the storage bay, and until it arrives we can't load the other supplies. So it could end up taking another seven cycles, maybe ten. I'm sorry, Prime, I've tried to hurry things along, but they're going as fast as they can. And we don't want the 'cons to get googly optics at our sudden increase in movement".

"Affirmative".

There was an uncomfortable silence between them, well, Ironhide thought it was uncomfortable.

"Well, we've waited this long, another few cycles won't dent morale that much. Now, what of the weapon's systems?"

"Fully operational, Prime. All of them have been installed".

"Good news".

"And the delay will give us all time to re-assess the other smaller issues, we were having problems installing the navigational radar, but Wheeljack was sure it wouldn't correlate with the upgraded Teletran".

"It's a minor problem, yes? One that can be overcome?"

"Oh, absolutely, Prime. You wanna talk to Percy and Jack, they're up there now".

"No, no, I'm sure I'll only be a bother, and I don't' want to take their focus from the job. We don't have time for chit chat. Well, Ironhide, I see things are under control here, keep an optic on things, I've things to discuss with Alpha Trion".

"I'll keep two on things, Prime".

"Hahah, fantastic old friend, fantastic!"

Prime's optics smiled and he shook his friend's hand firmly before he walked off to see the older mech.

--

Prime's day, as was every day for Prime, was busy.

He conversed with Alpha Trion about the concerns of the high command, in particular the delay. Prime managed to hold his temper in check and simply told the older mech to tell the HC to understand that in such a war there would always be supply issues and delays and this was normal.

After the discussion with Alpha Trion he had a security briefing with Red Alert, a lengthy security briefing.

Then it was Beachcomber who wanted to talk about making space for collecting geographical samples from new worlds and asteroids they may come across – they might yield interesting metals and fuels. He also gave a great big spiel about how it was important that they didn't damage the eco-systems of developing worlds, they could inadvertently abort a burgeoning life form.

Next up was Ratchet who demanded that Wheeljack's hands be removed, or failing that, his lab be lined with anti-explosive material.

There were others with just as mundane or down right stupid or selfish wants and needs but generally they went quickly and Prime was very good at hurrying people along without them feeling that they had been booted out of his office.

Eventually, his work was completed enough to leave for the day.

It was time to return home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

She had just finished hanging a piece of art which she thought would brighten up the drab quarters she shared with Prime. It was pleasant too look at and it made her feel normal. Prime had been of the opinion that those of such high rank should not been seen to indulging in anything, bar it cause dissent and murmurs within the ranks. She had pointed out, which of course earned her a slap, that even the likes of Bumblebee kept pictures and things of value.

It was hung in a place where Prime very rarely went, and when he did, it wasn't to admire the walls. It was the store cupboard where various cleaning supplies and a few old worn digipads with photographs of a happier life.

Elita knew he had entered when she heard him slam his pile of digipads down on the table next to the door; there were a string of profanities. The femme Autobot remained in the closet for a moment, afraid to leave the relative safety, afraid to face what was going to be a very violent night.

"ELITA!"

He roared.

"WHERE'S MY FUCKING ENERGON!"

He growled.

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE YOU SLUT!"

He slammed his fist into the wall and the vibration caused the door to the closet to spring open.

"Oh, Prime, you're home, I didn't hear you".

"What the pit are you doing in there?"

"I was just cleaning up".

Prime looked around the room and raised an optic ridge at her.

"If you lead how you clean, the Cons will have us beat by the end of the rotational".

She said nothing as he laughed at his own cruel joke.

"So what did you do today?"

He feigned interested as he flopped down on the couch and unlatched his armour, letting it all spill out.

"Oh, not too much, I mostly just looked over reports and discussed some needed supplies".

"How cute, reports and supplies".

"Its part of my command post".

"Command post? Hah, what a joke. You're nothing more then an over glorified secretary".

He turned on the data viewer.

"Well, it can get quite taxing".

She said optics downcast, her voice soft.

"Yes, I suppose all those heavy pens and digipads can be quite weighty for a widdle femme to lift. Now where's my energon".

"I'll go get it".

"See that you do".

When she returned Prime was "taking care of business" while watching what was nothing short of filth, and it looked like the kind that couldn't be purchased over the counter.

"Isn't that illegal?"

She asked suddenly.

"Perks of leadership. But I guess you know all about that!"

His hand stopped and he laughed loudly.

"OH, hahaha! Isn't that funny! Perks of leadership! You'd know all about that! It's funny because you don't know shit about leadership!!"

"Are you… are you drunk?"

She asked him.

He suddenly jumped onto his knees and twisted around to face her, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, his grip so vicious it started to crush her delicate frame.

"AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO IF I AM? YOU WORTHLESS SKANK!"

Optimus was incredibly powerful, even when intoxicated, he hauled her over the couch and smashed her down through the small lounge table, he spun himself around and opening his legs he grabbed her head.

"FINISH THE JOB WHORE!"

He roared.

She complied.

The rest of the night was a nightmarish blur of rape and torture, every minute of it punctuated by the most demeaning of insults. It culminated in a beating the likes she'd never had. She wouldn't be able to talk away those injuries as an accident or clumsiness.

--

When she came back online she found herself lying in a pool of the contents of Prime's holding tanks and other fluids that shall not be mentioned. She was coated in the dried energon that had come from her own body, from the numerous rips and tears in her armour. Her left optic was completely shattered and she had no vision on that side. Her right arm wasn't working and as she sat up she found why, it lay about three metres from her. She managed to stand; she was unsteady on her feet and kept staggering. Dropping to the floor she began sobbing.

She went into stasis again.

Banging woke her.

It was loud. Deliberate.

At first she thought it was Prime coming back for round two.

She was aware of the doors swishing open. Of footsteps rushing across the floor. Of a familiar voice calling to her.

Elita drifted away again and would wake three cycles later in the repair bay.

--

"I heard, Prowl".

Magnus was standing at the window of his office, staring out over the port.

"What would you like done?"

"Can it be proved it was Optimus?"

"No".

"Are they blaming the Decepticons?"

"Yes".

"But Ratchet would have guessed, correct?"

"From the fluid samples he collected from Elita".

"Damn".

"The argument has been put across that Prime and Elita interfaced before the attack".

"Of course that doesn't address the large amount of holding tank content all over her".

"Or the fluid samples pounded into her injuries".

"What has Ratchet said?"

"He hasn't said anything".

"That's worrying".

"I've had a discussion with Ratchet. Explained to him the importance of morale and secrecy in this matter".

"What was his answer?"

"As you can imagine".

"But will he agree to remain… quiet on this matter?"

"He agreed but didn't like it".

"I guess that's all we can do at this point then".

"Until the launch".

Prowl left. Magnus stood there and sighed. This was not a pretty picture to be in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Things had been quiet.

Some would say _too _quiet, but it was never _too _quiet.

Things had continued as they always had.

Patrols would continue their route around the perimeter.

Ammunitions would continue to be stock piled.

New resources would continue to arrive.

Supplies would continue to be inventoried.

The only thing that had become a common place activity was preparation for the Ark's launch.

Two cycles after Elita had been "the target of an assassination attempt by Deception agents" and six cycles before the re-correlated launch date, an explosion had taken place in the loading dock next to the ship. It had been large enough to tear a hole through the dividing wall and the collapsing metal structure had caused significant damage to the Ark. It could still launch, it could still be repaired. It just had happened in such a way that it would most likely be at least fifty cycles before they were at launch readiness.

This angered Prime.

But with Elita in a medically induced stasis he had no one to take it out on.

The whispers about the base and in the Autobot ranks was that the same Decepticon agents who had brutalised Elita had planted a bomb, being unable to break into the launch bay, they planted a large explosive against its neighbour's wall.

It was simply an accident.

It was no act of sabotage by an Autobot.

It was no cruel act of military attack by a Decepticon.

It was someone leaving a flammable material in large quantities next to a heating conduit.

Someone then accidently rested their mug of hot oil a little too close to a few switches in the control room for the environmental controls.

There were a few jokes, a couple of digs about an operator's femme, a playful punch in the arm and a gentle nudge which tipped the oil.

No harm was seen to be done as it dribbled across the panel, it was wiped up quickly, but not quick enough and the optics of the cleaner did not pick up that a few drops had oozed through into the protected circuits.

Over the next few cycles the oil corroded through the very delicate circuit until finally gave and the emergency shut down sequence in case of overload, failed.

It heated.

It bothered the flammable.

The flammable heated.

The flammable exploded.

The explosion also took out that control room, destroying the damaged circuit beyond any semblance of repair. And since no one thought to look at the simplest explanation, it was over looked for something more exciting.

Red Alert, of course, enjoyed the situation overtly.

Sure, he was enraged that an attack on the Ark had taken place.

That someone had gotten past _his _security measures.

But it gave him the opportunity to oversee a complete overhaul of all matters involving security. And that's what he enjoyed.

Ultra Magnus and Prowl knew better to suspect a Decepticon agent.

They guessed it was probably an accident.

They didn't know how it had started or where and didn't push any investigation to the point.

Should it be found it was an accident people could question the attack on Elita.

It worked in their favour.

Of course, it meant Prime would be on Cybertron a little longer, but hopefully Elita would remain in stasis until the re-scheduled launch.

Ratchet had that as his plan.

But Prime was of course, pestering him.

On the fourth cycle after the attack, Prime finally sobered up enough to decide to come and sit with is bond mate.

Ratchet, Magnus and Prowl had had the conversation that he could sit there, but it had to be supervised, albeit covertly - should Prime not attend to his mate then it could look suspect.

It all about appearances.

Keeping up appearances.

"Oh baby, please wake up, I miss you".

Prime lent in close to his bond mate and squeezed her hand as he nuzzled against her forehead.

"I miss your smile, the way your ridges scrunch up when you worry over a battle plan, how your optics sparkle when your ladies come back successful, the way, how your hips swing when you walk across the quarters… hehe, I love how you snuggle in against my neck in the berth, oh… and I adore your energon stew!"

He chuckled softly as he started to stroke her left cheek with the fingers of his other hand.

"Oh Elita, please wake up, I need you baby".

Those fingers caressed her motionless lips.

"There's so much going on, so much slag! The launch was sabotaged".

Even Prime believed that lie, and why wouldn't he, it was Ultra Magnus his second in command and Prowl his top strategist, they were always right.

"I'm sorry… sorry about the other night".

He sat up, his hand still touching his wife.

"You know I have a temper on me".

He let go of her and ran his hands over his helmet.

"You know when you get me angry I lash out. As much as you deserve it, you need to know I can't stop when you get me so mad. Its your fault, Elita, its always your fault, but I don't care, I want you to wake up".

He gripped both her hands.

"Elita! Please, wake up, and no matter how bad you deserve it, no matter how mad you make me, no matter how much you piss me off, I'll never hurt you again".

An internal command retracted his face mask and he kissed her lips.

"But you gotta know, Elita, you can NEVER make me so angry again, it was all your fault, Elita, YOUR fault, you know that don't you, but its okay, I forgive you. I forgive you. Just don't earn yourself a beating ever again. Its YOUR fault, but I forgive you".

Prime let go of her hands and his mask flicked back over his stern features.

The Autobot leader would continue his utterances over the next three cycles that he sat next to his wife as she lay deep in the dark of coma.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

On the cycle Elita woke the Decepticons made the uninformed decision to attack the base housing the Ark – which they didn't know existed at the time. Megatron's goal was energon and to strike a blow against Autobot morale.

Of course, what Megatron didn't know was that Autobot propaganda had ripped through the base sneaking the cause of their female commander's injuries having been a covert Decepticon, not to mention the attack on the Ark. This, spurred them to strike back at the Decepticons with a furore they'd seldom seen in Autobot ranks. Megatron and his forces still imposed an awful amount of damage and a significant number of causalities.

Ratchet and the medics under his command were rushed off their servos.

He knew Elita had woken, he knew she was well enough to leave the repair bay, what he didn't plan was for her to do so, what he didn't know was that Prime had decided to take her out.

Megatron's surprise was that Prime wasn't in the battle lines.

But he had to remove his surprise quickly to focus on the aggression the Autobots were showing in his absence.

Optimus had sent a quick internal comm. message to Magnus telling him he was taking off for a few cycles to get his CPU together. Magnus agreed. The City Commander wouldn't have if he had known Elita was going to be in attendance with the Prime.

Elita was recharging in the back of the small shuttle that left the atmosphere of Cybertron, her abusive husband at the helm, the smoke from the most recent Decepticon v. Autobot shenanigans rising towards the sky. Only Prime knew their destination, and within twelve cycles travel at express light speed they would arrive. Optimus had helped himself to a few of Ratchet's more potent sedatives before he left. He wanted it to be a surprise for his wife, he didn't want her to wake and be bored with him during the journey. Well, what it was intended that he meant was that she wouldn't "anger" him during the journey.

--

There was music.

It was a soft and gentle plucking of a harp.

There was a voice.

Organic.

They had such sweet voices.

Her databanks didn't contain the translation of what the female was singing of, but from the passion and tone of her notes it was most definitely a love song.

The melody was incredibly soothing and she murmured in comfort.

What she lay upon was unusually soft, definitely no solid recharge berth.

The scent of a perfume entered her olfactory senses and when her optics onlined she found herself laying on a stunningly detailed bed with a soft mattress adorned with silk pillows and the fur of an incredibly rare animal. Flower petals lay scattered about the bed and over her delicate frame.

When she sat she saw the entire left wall was glass that allowed her to see out over one of the most amazing cities in the universe. Maq'¤ç ðĦdζcvφж. No city was more active, more enlightened, more entertaining. It was on a world that was far from any conflict zone and its rich resources were staunchly guarded with a species who possessed a weapon so powerful it dwarfed anything Megatron had crafted for his war machine. But that weapon was only for deterrence. They were a peaceful species, more interested in the pleasure of academics and socialising. That wasn't to say they were promiscuous, if anything they valued the purity of a wedding day virgin and encouraged it. This had given them a society with an almost zero percent of divorce or spousal abuse.

Of course, that was in their own species, they were a multi-species culture, this city had the most diverse spread of species and more then a few Autobots and Decepticons and neutrals fleeing the war had come here, and they knew if they started anything, the natives would finish it.

Prime had obviously gone to a lot of trouble. It wasn't easy to get a room with such a view, she saw the logo on the side lamp and realised it was the most exclusive and most pricey hotel that this world possessed.

The female's voice continued, she wasn't a native, which probably explained why she sat naked on the small couch as Prime watched, his optics taking in her form, his audios more intoned to her playing then anything else.

"Elita".

He breathed as he moved to sit on the bed next to where she lay.

"Optimus?"

"I'm sorry, my love, I thought we could get away for a few cycles, enjoy some pleasurable time together".

The voice in the background continued to sing.

"I forgive you".

She whispered.

His face mask retracted.

They kissed.

The female played on, not at all bothered, or paid enough not to bother, about the two Transformers engaged in interface on the bed before her. Her voice filled the room with a beautiful array of words and notes that both couldn't translate, an ancient language that had long since been lost, bar its only most beautiful ballads.

--

The morning light was twinged blue, at first Elita thought it was due to some tinting in the window, but it happened to be from one of the suns that shone down on such an amazing world.

She stood.

Taking in her surrounds she sighed with a kind of peace she hadn't known in a long time.

The morning breeze was bustling in through the large open glass doors. The silky lace curtains danced along aimlessly on the planet's gentle breath. The female commander walked out onto the balcony and was able to better take in the city and the incredible scenery that lay around it, and reached through it with green fingers. IT was one of the few species that saw the environment as something to be valued and incorporated into their cities.

Large blue mountains glistened in the distance; their snow caps a white that caught that amazing blue light. It was a dim light, but no less illuminating. She lent her arms on the delicately carved gold railing. Her armour removed the night before and she felt a freedom she would die for as the mellow wind caressed her bare form.

Hands were on her now.

Prime.

"Morning, lover".

He whispered in her audios.

"Are you grateful for the gift I have given you".

"Yes, Prime, ever so".

"Good. Now, come back to the berth and let me give you another gift".

She knew better then to deny him, even when he was in such a good mood on such a tantalising planet. His rage would not be held back because he was in the company of pacifists.

"I cannot wait, _master"._

He loved it when she called him that. She always had thought it was due to some kind of kinky fetish. The reality was he liked to be known as her master, to own her, to own every part of her, to use her when he desired, and to throw her away when she was finished. She was his. His property. His interface hole. His everything. And he was her master.

After, he lay next to her, holding her, whispering to her how he loved her and many sweet things. What they had just done seemed rather nice, enjoyable for her, surprisingly, he was really trying. He reminded her of the first vorns of their relationship, back before the war had touched them so.

--

That day they packed a picnic of the finest energon and oil then drove out on those lovely paved roads off into the dazzling forests and terrain.

"Marvellous, isn't it Prime?"

"Truly amazing, I agree".

Their conversation for the next quarter cycle was based on the strangeness of "trees" and how it was odd to drive on a soft ground. They were soon deep within the dramatic nature.

They decided on a spot at the bottom of a brilliant water fall which crashed down into a huge river, several snaking rivers broke away from it and took it into various directions and perhaps into a near by sea. Organic forms of life bustled in the flora, birds sung, insects buzzed and occasionally a fox like creature would appear, sniff, then scurry away.

"Oh Optimus, its so astonishing! What an incredible place! Promise me when this miserable war is over we'll be able to come back here".

"Of course! We could purchase some land near here, and build a cabin, with plura-glass that will let us view the world that we love. At night we can lay out here and make love under the stars and the moons".

"Really? Would we really?"

"Of course, baby, I wouldn't lie to you. We could build right there, the land is firm enough and there's enough in that spot that we wouldn't have to remove any of the trees".

Optimus motioned over towards the space where the trees met the flat and the flat met the water.

"Then we could set up a small water generator and create our own energon".

"Yes, home made energon always tastes nicer".

"Smoother too".

"I especially love it when it comes from such a natural source".

"Did I ever tell you about the time Kup and I got stuck on one of U'lu'x moons?"

"No, heh".

Elita lay sideways on the soft grass, supporting her weight with her elbow, her head on her hand, her other arm resting across her side and belly.

Prime lay back so he was facing up at the sky, his hands cupped under his head.

"Well, we were fleeing from some Decepticon scouts, we were out looking for something, I forget which, but we ended up going down thinking we'd be down a few mili-cycles and instead we got caught in some magnetic updraft and crashed! We were stuck there for seventy three cycles. Anyway, it was a dazzling planet. Even though it was essentially a dead world, it had this _feel_ to it, a kind of pleasantness, a peacefulness. The sun it rotated around was a green sun and the moon's surface was a sort of purple, but together, the colouring was just very restful on the optics. There was this natural energon crystallisation that we were able to benefit from. They tasted so good! But we just lay there for cycles discussing what we wanted for the war, for after it, for life. It was nice".

"Kup is a nice old mech, indeed".

"OH, and wise too, he know's his stuff, sure, he likes to act all belligerent and forgetful at time, but he's actually a clever old mech".

Prime was getting passionate.

It happened occasionally, he'd start talking about something or someone he cared about greatly and he'd get to the point where he sounded almost real. Prime had to hide his emotions, he couldn't be seen to a be a fickle leader, who let feelings override his purpose and his orders, so he bottled them all up. But of course, took the lid off when he got home. But with those he knew, trusted and cared about, he could be himself. Elita felt hope for him, for her, for them when he started to speak like this. It meant he loved her and trusted her still that he could have these discussions with her, where he could let his guard down.

Their conversations lasted for many hours, and as the sun went down and the three moons were in view, all full, and the littering of stars about the blackness, they interfaced under that curtain of nature. The wind picking up and blowing through the trees, creating a noise they would never hear on Cybertron. The day birds went to their nests and slept; the night birds woke and sung to each other. Their calls replacing the words of the naked organic female she'd woken to not long before. The animals that stalked in the moonlit woods gave cry occasionally, but nothing that disturbed or even scared the two machines built for war.

And it was a passionate love.

A love she had longed for for so long.

It was something she would remember.

And as always, when things looked their bleakest, she'd reach into her CPU and recall this moment.

Moments like this were rare, and were protected by her CPU.

And it was these rare moments that kept her with Prime.

Through all the beatings and rapes and torture, these few, passionate, emotionally, loving, tender, combined moments of love were what made all that pain so worth it.

--

The morning came; they interfaced again, packed up then drove back to the city.

The conversation they had in the restaurant that night focussed on their dreams and hopes, again on that dream of the shelter near that waterfall. Prime had even gone so far as to enquire as to who owned the land and where he could make a purchase.

It was that the breakfast the next morning Prime broke the news to her that he had purchased enough land for their dream. It would be cared for during the war by a family who had originally owned the land. They were happy for the influx of funds and the realisation that Prime probably wasn't going to be an irritation. IT was no secret the Transformers' civil war would go on a lot longer then anyone really cared to think about.

Part of the deal was that if Prime died Elita would take the property, but should they both succumb, then the native family would own the land and get to keep the money. It was hard for such a peaceful family to actually will a lengthy war.

Of course, what they didn't know at that point, that in four million years time their species and all its beautiful cities would no longer exist, a war having broken out and ripped across the planet. What sprung from the ashes were animals and plants that could tolerate the vicious radiation. That soon after Prime would die and Elita would seek this place out, finding it to be different to what she remembered would crush her spark of all emotion.

But the focus now wasn't the future it was the now.

Their discussion then returned to friends and family and desires and wishes and hopes and what all of those fluffy things spoken at bonding ceremonies meant.

And that night after another gentle interfacing, Prime would hold her in his arms and whisper with true love:

"Bear my sparkling".

She agreed.

They interfaced.

And in such a way where such a life would not be conceived, this was disregarded, and Prime removed from himself that barrier and Elita came down with Spark, though, at that time, they could not know. Only hope.

Hope.

That was what kept her with such a monster.

Hope that moments like the past few cycles would seep its emotion and meaning into his CPU and cause his love to fracture that anger and malice and hate.

To give her back Orion Pax, friend, generous and caring spirit, lover.

Not Optimus Prime, hidden monster, hidden rapist, hidden anger.

It gave her hope that light would penetrate the dark.

And they kissed.

And they slipped into recharged, embraced in each other's arms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The apparently long journey back to Cybertron was boring for her, she wondered if it was because Prime didn't think it appropriate for a femme to pilot a shuttle. Of course, it might have also been due to the absolute annoyance of knowing what they were returning too. Prime had been much calmer, much gentler in his approach and only occasionally cussed her out. It was war. Simple as that. War was slag, it reached its energon covered mitts into the sparks of any who dared approach it, and Prime, well, he was smack bang in the middle of it, so it was only normal that he'd end up seriously effected by it. The war was the reason for his beatings, the abuse, everything he had ever done to her in anger was because of the scars war had left on him.

She stared out the window and smiled at the sight of the beautiful planet that revolved to their left.

"Stunning, isn't it, darling?"

Prime asked as he continued to focus on the controls.

"It is, it really is!"

"We can get a place there too, if you get sick of the water fall!"

He chuckled.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to stretch your finances".

She giggled as she sat herself down in the co-pilots. Their optics met and he reached out and brushed her face with the back of his hand, a scarcely used softness behind his action.

"Optimus".

She sighed as she shut her optics for a moment and lent her head into his hand.

"Things will change, Elita, things will change".

He whispered.

"Now, get some recharge, it shouldn't be long before we're back home".

The pink and white femme returned to one of the back berths and lay herself down, the hum of the engines and the soft breeze created by the cooling system was calming and helped her relax even deeper into the recharge she was seeking.

An internal alarm woke her half a cycle later, someone was invading her space, on lining her optics she expected to see an amorous Optimus baring down on her, an Optimus who was usually horrifically vicious – she didn't plan on resisting him. Instead, she noticed it wasn't Prime. It was someone else. A Decepticon.

He pulled her from the berth and tossed her to the ground, she found herself lying next to an unconscious Prime. Now, that was unusual, finding Prime bested by 'Cons, especially Decepticons who looked so rag-tagged and energon deprived.

"What do you want, 'Con?"

She asked irritably as she glared up at them.

"So you know who we are, right, bitch?"

"My optics are fully functional, Decepticon, I can see the insignia on your chest".

The Autobot femme commander growled back.

The Decepticon looked down at his chest and noticed the purple face like symbol staring outwards at his prey.

"Don't get many un-marks who can guess mine!"

He said, distain in his voice as he slumped into the pilot's chair and propped his feet up on Prime's unconscious form.

Optimus always made sure that whenever he and Elita travelled for pleasure, that they would remove their markings, Transformers were easy to pick out of a crowd, but there were more to their race then just Autobots and Decepticons, and those two could be seen by their markings. Even if an individual didn't know the different red and purple marks they could guess they were involved in the well known civil war, and it often made aliens a little nervous, because where Transformers with affiliations went, the war often followed close behind. And that damn war was good at interrupting their peaceful R&R time, and that was something Prime didn't want happening when he stepped off world to seek some time to himself.

Perhaps it was why Prime was so easily bested; he didn't want to raise suspicion.

"What do you want?"

She asked after a pause.

"What do you think, girlie?"

The other one asked as the other sat in the co-pilot's seat and began accessing the systems. The first continued to stare at her, moving the energon chew in his mouth as the other worked. She had to wonder what they were searching for through the system's check.

"Nothing exciting, but this crate has a few good components, and thank Primus, Trilnox will be pleased, because it's got a duel chambered eqi-processor. Chaff shouldn't have too many problems getting it free".

"You think the boss man will be interested in this thing?"

"Dude! Have some class; the commander wouldn't waste his time 'facing this neutral _trash_".

He stood from the panel and walked over Elita and towards the exit.

"I'll go have a chat with Chaff, make sure he can strip this thing down ASAP, and I'll send a message to Trilnox about our find. Should take us just under a cycle to get what we need".

He exited the craft.

"What you want us to do with _this_?"

The mech yelled after who appeared to be the commander.

"Well, what do you usually do with garbage?"

He called back.

"Seems awfully wasteful".

The other muttered softly.

The superior poked his head back in through the door.

"Well, then, sell them as slaves, I'm sure Gracko will be only too happy to find himself in possession of a mech of that size and a femme of that… well… _work ethic_".

He was then gone again, his footsteps echoing across the cargo bay their small shuttle had been pulled into.

"Well, girlie, you got two choices, either I keep you or I sell you… what am I talking about, those are my choices. Hahaha".

Standing up he took a step towards her and then kicked her in the face, she fell back, the back of her helmet striking an adjacent panel, it forced her into stasis.

--

When she regained her awareness she found herself sitting in a small cell, to her right was a femme of a different robotic species, on her right a species crafted of both organic and mechanic components. They were known as a vicious species, often warring with each other and those who managed to escape their home world either got jobs as mercenaries or gladiators in the many illegal arenas that existed.

"I wondered if you were gonna online before I went out".

"Looks like you owe me three creds, Josheeyn".

"Eh, slag you, Rysloni".

"Jos' here didn't think you'd online again, me, I'm a woman who likes to gamble, so I reckoned you would".

"Doesn't seem like something to gamble on".

Elita replied to the fully mechanical femme.

"Yeah, well, do you see anything else to lay our risks on?"

The organic with mechanical components replied.

"You're a transformer, aren't you?"

Another voice was added into the fray, Elita couldn't see the owner, but it sounded as if she was held in a cell opposite her.

"Yes".

"Wow, don't see many of you guys out this way".

Jos' added.

"So, you gotta be a neutral, no way you're a 'Con bitch with those colours, and no Autobot wench would let herself be caught alive out this side of the quadrant".

"Yes, a neutral. My bond mate and I were travelling to the Vingyloz system, he had business there".

"Real? What's he do? Your bond mate?"

"He's sort of a jack of all trades, as the saying goes, but before the war he was a store's mech, ran a series of subspace storage yards, now he works as anything from a courier to a repairman to a locater of high demand items".

Her fellow prisoners, if they were so that, were quiet for a few moments until Jos' spoke up again.

"You're not gun runners, are you?"

"No, no, of course not. We both hate war, its something that's destroyed both our lives, so we go out of our way to avoid anything that assists in any conflict".

"What kinds of things does he courier?"

"Mostly items of an opulent nature, unusual sorts of things".

"Bet you've been to all sorts of interesting places".

Jos' asked. She came across as a young, perhaps she was just a youth, Elita couldn't get a good look at her under the dim lighting in their cells.

"Yeah, but not as _interesting _as this place".

Elita sighed.

"Well, pretty, strong looking lady such as yourself, you won't be here that long".

The voice from across the hall replied.

"Can I ask where exactly we are, and what exactly this place is?"

"We're on a ship heading to a slave traders' market".

The voice replied.

"You sound like you know what you're talking about".

Elita stated.

"Well, I've been on enough of these vessels, I know the feel of them, and besides, I overheard my new owner telling my old master exactly where I'd be sold and how many creds I'd make him".

"You seem like a valuable asset, why would your master sell you?"

Jos' asked.

"He's run into a few financial issues, gambler, and he made the mistake of gambling with the wrong people with money he didn't have and so, I'm moving on as a result, but its okay, he was a complete bastard".

"Could anyone has it a guess as to what the fate of my mate would be?"

The unobtrusive femme commander asked.

"He'll be in the male section, if he's at all on this shuttle, and chances are, if he's a big strong mech or continues a skill base that is valuable, the trader may keep him for himself or the individuals who sold you to him may have kept him. Truth is, you can never be sure what the fate of any one sold into slavery is unless you're sitting right there next to them".

Rysloni explained.

Elita went quiet for a moment and then slumped back against the wall of the cell, she sighed and the others took that as a sign that she wanted to be left alone to the traumatising thoughts that she was now a slave. After a few moments they began to chat amongst themselves, but Elita drowned it all out.

--

Elita was woken rather abruptly from her recharge, not by the hastening of her capture by a slave master, nor by the sobbing of her fellows or even the attack of pirates or some other grouping of criminals, rather, it was her mate's screaming of a battle cry that pulled her free of sleep.

The slave masters that stood guard over the holding cells, who until now she had not seen or was even aware of, started running towards the commotion, the commotion a very violent Optimus Prime was unleashing. And here was the problem as Elita sore it, none of these individuals knew that the red and blue mech who towered above them was the leader of the courageous and heroic Autobots, and Prime knew this, and he would take advantage of this, and killing them, shedding their energon and their blood or whatever flowed through their bodies would never be associated with the Autobots. Prime tore a swathe through those who were ignorant enough to stand against him. Their limbs and heads were tossed aside by the raging Matrix barer. He finally made it to Elita's cell; he looked down at her and crushed the lock which energon flowed through. Flicking it aside he reached down and picked her up.

"We're getting out of here".

He said simply.

"Free them as well".

"Courier my arse! No "jack of all trades" blasts their way through Uuloni' like that!"

Uuloni' being the species of the slave carriers.

The voice who Elita never had a name for spoke up.

Prime said nothing, and his female mate knew what he was planning.

:Go to the shuttle, here are the co-ordinates:

Prime said through their internal comm. Elita sighed softly, as much as she had no idea who these people were, she did know their fate, she did know that Prime could not have anyone, femme or mech, child or adult, alive to tell the tale of the huge red and blue Transformer spreading destruction and fleeing from a slave carrier. In another time, many vorns ago, she may have stood up to him, demanding his respect for their lives, but such bravery against him would result in a beating she did not wish to suffer through.

:Just make it quick, please, Prime, quick:

He looked at her and nodded. She walked out.

"Alright ladies, time to go home".

Prime's voice came before the blasting and the screaming.

Elita walked down the corridor towards the cargo bay where their shuttle resided. The smoking charred remains of those who had stood against Prime were scattered about. It was off home, home with a very angry and blood lusting Autobot Commander. She was afraid.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The shuttle had proved to be stripped of all useful and necessary implements of flight; of course, Prime had found other options stored in the cargo hold. Elita felt uncomfortable sitting within the strange berth of a strange vessel, perhaps it belonged to one of the femmes Prime had culled to keep their secret. Well, it was going to be a hard one to hide this secret, the Autobot commander and his mate returning to Cybertron in the vessel of another species. Prime could say he traded up, but no one would believe, or would be happy about him trading a ship laden with Autobot technology for this piece of slag.

Elita sighed and placed her head in her hands and looked down at the scruffy floor that had obviously been subjected to years of abuse, kind of like herself, she thought bleakly as she murmured in the affirmative to her mate who was still railing about the foolishness of those slave masters, that they could be so audacious to think they could stand against Optimus and how they would be smouldering in the Pit as they spoke, he added in a few curse words which Elita would have been happier not to hear and then he continued on about what was wrong with the Autobot force and why they hadn't beaten the Decepticons yet.

It was only in utmost privacy that Prime would say such things, away from the audios of their sub-ordinates, where those hurtful words could be viewed as something that would essentially shit all over morale or worse, be deemed as something a traitor would utter. But Prime was no traitor, but for the leader of the Autobots to use such words and give such statements was concerning, but only found in the moments of Optimus' deep seated rage, a rage that Elita knew only too well, and she felt she would know it again only too soon.

There was the moment of quiet between them, but it was filled with the hatred Prime was oozing, he was still angry about the slave traders. He was still mad about everything. He didn't like it when things went wrong. She had the feeling he was more so aggrieved that they'd gotten the drop on him, she had told him he had done well, to act like a simple courier mech, a non-combatant and that it saved their lives and their reputations, but it still made him feel as if his masculine nature had been lessened just a little further.

Elita knew at this point to let him stew, to say _nothing._

But some times, it wouldn't matter.

And this was one of those times.

She was aware that the engines had calmed down slightly, he had lessened the flow of energon to them, they were coasting. There were only three things Prime would set the engines to coast for. The first was recharge; the second was interfacing, and the third…

Elita had not earned, but was given a swift and equally brutal blow to the face. Optimus stood over her and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her from that scuffed ground. He threw her to the end of the room. He regarded her for a moment before marching towards her; he kicked her in the groin and then dropped to his knees, making sure one of them rested violently on top her abdomen. He began to hammer into her face with his balled fists.

He said nothing.

And that was trouble.

It was when Prime said nothing during his outbursts that it was really bad. He was pushing all his energy into the beating, he didn't have time or patience or resource to scream at her, to curse her, just to beat.

The attack continued for several long minutes and Elita offered no resistance, as whenever she did in these situations it only made it worse for herself. It was best to just let him tire himself out quickly and offering resistance tended to spur him on in some kind of polluted survival mood.

Optimus tired out a little quicker then usual. He groaned and lent back onto her thighs. His massive fingers rubbed over his face mask to wipe away the splatter of Elita's energon. He gave her a moment of his consideration before he removed her armour and took his enjoyment from her.

When he finished, he stood, reattached his armour, kicked her's aside, commanded her to leave it off, he then returned to his seat as pilot, and began the process of flight back to their home.

--

As it stood neither of them had to contemplate any further on a plausible lie regarding the acquisition of the alien shuttle as when they were flying into Cybertronian space they were shot at by a liberally energon thirsty Decepticon. The blast destroyed the engine's already questionable fuel lines beginning the ever so annoying cascade of system failure which would lead to a nice big explosion that would warm the fuel pump of any warrior. Prime grabbed Elita up from the berth and literally tossed her out the newly acquired hole in the haul.

"Transform three point seven seconds before you hit the ground and you'll be fine".

He yelled. Of course, he didn't have to tell her, she thought as she knew damn well how to use her own power and thrust to combat the unpleasant side effects of gravity.

Optimus, was of course, big enough, strong enough, and violently alert enough to not have to bother with transformation and instead just planted his heavy feet on the metal of the surface, after he jumped from the craft, or remains of it, that he piloted towards the shooter.

The shooter went to the Matrix that day.

Prime stood there watching the smouldering gun mound and waiting for reinforcements. When they didn't come he turned his attention to his mate who had driven up behind him and waited.

"I want to see what they were protecting; Megatron wouldn't leave one of his moronic troops out here for the Pit of it".

"Maybe it was punishment?"

"Hahah, Oh, Elita, you're so cute, dear! Megatron! Punishing his wayward troops with sentry duty! Oh, that's just rich!"

He had another good laugh.

"Just contact base and let Magnus know where we are and what we've found".

"And _what _have we found?"

"JUST DO IT NOW WOMAN!"

Prime roared as he spun around to face her, his optics burning.

She didn't answer, but the look in her optics as they dimmed told him she was doing it.

--

They walked slowly, with a certain level of caution Prime had not been showing of late. Deeper they sank into the bowels of the planet. Cybertron. It had a raft of hidden tunnels and innards, a complex working of mazes and passageways, some built by their ancient ancestors, their backs bearing the weight of their slave masters' desires, some built by their ancient ancestors during the civil wars. No one really knew the entire structure as some tunnels had been collapsed on themselves, while others were just so out of the way that very few stumbled upon them. Alpha Trion was one of the few who was known to have the best information pertaining to their aged layout.

"I didn't think the tunnels stretched this far".

Optimus whispered as he stopped at a junction. Rust grew up the support beams for the left path.

"Which way?"

"Left".

Elita stared down the right passage and while to her optics it seemed a lot safer and a lot more stable, she dared not offer her opinion. After all, Optimus wasn't just some worker bot any more, surely he'd know where he was going.

After what seemed like twenty vorns they reached the point where Prime stopped them. He did this by holding his hand up to her and a finger of his other to his face mask. She stood still, waiting for something to happen, or for Prime to release to her while he had ceased, then she heard.

"…so then TC was like "I ain'ts going near that whorebot again and that was that, but of course, you know Hail, she was like "I told ya so!" and harping on like the banshee she is, but of course, Hail being Hail left pretty quick smart when Screamer heard that she had probably caused the break up".

"That makes no sense, Tinder. Besides, I know TC well enough to know that he wouldn't face that tramp Maz".

"Well, all I'm saying is what SkyWarp told me".

"Slag you say, you overheard Skywarp telling someone else, and like the looser you are you have to peddle it to everyone you're the Sleeker's best chum".

"Whatever".

Before Tinder could make any further comment to her defence she found her neck's linkage snapped, an instantly fatal injury, and one that took the power, strength and knowledge that very few possessed few like Optimus Prime. Her companion, a low level communication's officer by the name of Radar met his fate at the quick fist of the Autobot mech as it ploughed through his face and crushed his CPU against the wall.

"Grab that bitch; we have to hide the _evidence_".

Prime shook the small bits and pieces of the mech's end from his hand and then pulled the chassis up and slung it over his shoulder.

After a few moments of walking they found a small side maintenance locker where they deposited the "evidence". It wasn't the first time the Autobot commander had done such things, and it wasn't' the first time his bond mate had witnessed it.

"If there are patrols we must have cottoned onto something decent, maybe a supply depot or storage facility, gasp, maybe even that damn research lab we've been trying to locate".

Prime sounded excited.

"Optimus…"

Elita stood and stared, she offered a finger to point at the sight they had now stumbled upon. The corridor ended on a balcony that sat at the top of an elevator shaft. In the centre of the chamber it overlooked was a massive Decepticon shuttle, branded on the side of it was the word "Star Drive" in their lexicon.

"The Decepticons have built a ship!"

The femme staggered.

"Thank Primus you're here, I could never have figured that out by myself".

Her mate said sarcastically.

Optimus stood for a moment watching.

"We need to leave, fall back and decide what we're going to do".

"We have to destroy that thing!"

Elita growled.

"I'm well aware of what we need to do, bitch, but I cannot destroy it alone and certainly not with your assistance can we inflict damage that will cease Megatron's operation. Now, we have to get back to the surface quickly, we need to contact the others, let them know to stop coming, if Megatron get's an inkling that we have knowledge of this location he'll move production else where".

The Autobot commander turned and ran; not wishing to drive for fear the noise would grab the Decepticon's attention. They would stop at the closet where they had deposited the bodies and they gathered their remains up, Prime concerned that if found, in their current condition, their death agonies still etched on what remained of their face plates would be evidence enough that they had met their fates at the hands of those who were not allies to the Decepticons.

--

**Author's NB: **Fun fact, if you watch Mircobots you will notice the 'Con ship is Star Drive. I think the ship's name of "Nemesis" which some people use, and I've used on occasional burst of laziness and coolness of name came from Beast Wars. I just thought I'd be pedantic with names today.

I don't know if there are Decepticon fan made characters by the names of Tinder et al, but they ended up dead anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

"So the Decepticons are building their own shuttle? Well, I guess it was only a matter of time before we faced this eventuality. They might have vastly more resources then us, but their greed would force their view outward".

Ultra Magnus grumbled as he lent back in his seat.

"Well, strategically its in their best interest, move out into the neighbouring systems, even if their primary goal was to just start small mining operations on asteroids they'd still be in a better situation. Statistically, they may find it a little difficult to weigh up how many troops Megatron takes. Not to mention, the risk that if Megatron goes with them whoever is left in charge on Cybertron could attempt to usurp. And if Megatron stays, well, whoever is in charge of the resource mission might find something so grand it is able to dwarf Megatron's power and he will win loyalty against".

"Those are certainly valid points, but we can't ignore the fact that perhaps the Cons knew about The Ark and were planning to use it to follow us or even attack us".

"I don't doubt that Kup, but Megatron has more then enough missile batteries to blast us out of the sky on launch if he's aiming in the right direction, so why waste those resources building a shuttle that will have a smaller range of target?"

"Who knows what goes through that lunatic's CPU?"

Kup and Prowl exchanged glances before looking away. Kup to the door as it opened and Jazz walked in and Prowl averting his optics to the numerous digipads in front of him.

Jazz was unfazed by optics locked on him and simply took his seat.

"Sorry I'm late, but I just got some information that may help us figure out this little messy mess we're in".

"Oh yeah?"

Ironhide asked.

"Just had a bit of a chin wag with an informant in the 'Con ranks, they say Megatron ain't got no interest in blasting the Ark, he knows about it, but the way he sees it, it'll mean a ship less Autobots on Cybertron. So after our launch, he'll launch his shuttle and take off in a different direction. According to my informant, well, Megatron don't think we have the gaul to do what needs to be done to get the resources".

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Blaster asked.

"Do you even need to inquire?"

Prowl stated glumly.

"It means, boys and girls, that Megatron will have no moral hang ups over destroying innocent civilisations to get the energon he needs, we, on the other hand, could spend millions of years searching for a lifeless world to utilise".

Magnus picked up a digipad and tossed it gingery across the table towards Prime.

"A report from Astronomy and geographical planetary science division, according to the brains they say the closest world without any life that would be damaged by our presence is at least six point two million light stellar cycles".

Magnus rested his hands on the table and stood.

"The closest planet with life and resources that Megatron would find useful is only two hundred LSC's away".

"It'd be illogical for Megatron to take a world we know about and can easily attack".

"That's true, Prowl, but this is Megatron we're talking about, chances are he's got some plans crafted".

Kup added.

"He wouldn't bother going to such an easily detectable world if he hadn't".

"So, Prime, what do we do?"

Jazz inquired, cutting short any argument that seemed to be brewing.

"Nothing".

"What?"

The chorus from his officers rung out.

"We do nothing. Megatron will expect us to do something, I want to give him the feeling of security, he doesn't know we know about his shuttle, not yet at least. We get construction back on schedule and launch as per plan, but we don't take as many Autobots as he would expect. We let him think a large contingent of us have left. If he launches a shuttle after us, we attack. Ironhide, you're to upgrade the weaponry on the Ark. Prowl, I want you to work out exactly who we need and who we don't, give me a logical prediction of the numbers we need to keep on Cybertron and who. Jazz, get in touch with your informants, find out what Megatron knows and what their construction time table is, also, I want you to brief your unit and have them go out and investigate this further. Blaster, work on upgrading the communications, we're going to need a larger radio zone to ensure we can send messages if the Decepticons attack the Ark post launch. Kup, upgrade security, whatever resources you need, you take, we need to ensure we have no further interruptions. Magnus, I'll want you to stay on Cybertron, as per plans, but I want you to focus on building a base at Kronzt".

Prime stood, he didn't wait for agreements, he left.

Kup slowly stood and followed Jazz and Blaster out. Ironhide yawned, stretched and gathered up his digipads and exited. Magnus and Prowl remained seated.

"What do you think?"

"Prowl, if it gets Prime off this planet faster, then so be it. If it keeps his attention away from beating and raping his mate and other unfortunate femmes. And once he's gone, we can ignore this silly idea of his to establish a base at Kronzt".

"You think he might know something, about what we're thinking, I mean, Kronzt has been a dead end for vorns, we all know that".

"Maybe that's why he thinks its worth a second look, because Megatron did such a number on it last time he may not ever bother sending that squawker Laser Beak back over".

"This is getting complicated".

"I thought that's what you do, Prowl, complicated?"

Magnus stifled a chuckle.

"I do logic, not complications, though it does make for an interesting change in pace".

The two stood, grinned, and left.

--


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Commander, I have news".

Elita turned to face her second as the blue femme marched in briskly, her voice deep with a tone that was either that of bearing bad news or her simply being assertive.

"Report".

"About a Deca-cycle ago, Prime gave orders to Commander Magnus to re-establish the base at Krontz".

"Krontz has been decommissioned for over 60 vorns".

She said bluntly, almost implying that Chromia had gotten the wrong end of the stick.

"I've just received information that Prime wants you to re-station the femme unit there".

"What?"

Elita seemed genuinely surprised by the comment.

"And why wouldn't he just come and give me that order in person?"

"Because, Elita, it's not official yet, I heard it from a friend of Ironhide's, someone who's high up the ranks. Whatever they're planning, whatever the reason, we're going to end up in some Primus' forsaken Pit hole that's open for attack from every quarter".

Chromia was incensed.

"Chromia, my friend, I'm certain that if Prime had intended us to be in such a place he would have told me personally, but the concept of that derelict being used as an operational compound, well, its just ludicrous".

"Permission to speak bluntly, commander".

"Granted".

"You're completely and utterly mad! Not to mention completely taken by that brutal sasquatch! We all know what he does to you, Elita, anyone with any ounce of observational skill knows he beats you, rapes you, dominates you! And now, when he craps all over you and your command post and your unit you just pass it off as a "oh, it can't possibly be that because Prime would tell me" rubbish. He's a bastard! Plain and simple and the femme species as a whole would be better off if he were dead, and so would you!"

Her tirade earned her a firm slap and a dismissed order, which she obeyed without question or word, leaving the femme commander to mull over the news she had been given, and to contemplate on the commentary given by her second and her friend.

Elita stood there.

She didn't move.

She didn't flinch.

She didn't say anything or sigh or make any noise.

She just stood there.

Staring at the door, willing inside for something to happen, anything.

Anything that would take her away from her moment of stationary, internalised grief.

The realisation slowly started to dawn.

Her life was hell.

Prime was a monster.

She was trapped.

She moved then.

Slowly, deliberately she turned and took careful, intentional steps towards the chair.

She lowered herself into it.

And then she broke down into loud sobs.

Her body heaved forcefully as she wept over the absolute miserable lot her life now resembled.

Slumping down from the chair she landed hard on her knees, her head cradled in her hands as she tilted her body down, curled into a ball to try and hide her secret shame.

There really wasn't anything she could do.

No where she could go for help.

Sure, Chromia would only be too happy to help her escape, but where would they go? This was Optimus they were talking about, the commander and chief of the Autobot forces, no where on Cybertron was beyond his reach. Chromia just also happened to be the bond mate of one of Prime's most trusted officers. Did Ironhide know? Chromia had a mouth on her, that was for sure, but had she ever whispered her suspicions to Ironhide? What would be said of her? What would the Autobots utter in their rec rooms and officers and barracks? Nothing complimentary, she knew. And what of her own femmes? How would they react to the news that their mighty and strong commander, a warrior and solider and leader and friend and femme was a weak, timid little slave girl to the Autobot commander? She took a beating, she took a raping, she took awful verbal and emotional attacks, how would it look if the mighty female commander was simply a pathetic guttersnipe, a punching bag for stronger mechs?

No.

No.

It just could not be tolerated.

Elita fought for a few moments to get control of herself.

She wiped away her tears, and lent back on her feet, giving her optics a quick back handed sweep to catch any stray drips of emotion. She sighed. Shook her head. Then stood.

No, she was just simply going to have to tolerate it. Maybe give Prime a word or two, or perhaps a back hand. She'd never win in a fight against him, but maybe if he saw she was willing to fight back he might at least respect her, maybe even cease his abuse. But then again, she had tried to resist in the past, all it had done was bring down upon her an even more brutal pummelling, or was it simply that she hadn't stuck at it, she'd just didn't have the fortitude to continue to resist, and he had recognised that and found it amusing.

She spent a few more moments regaining composure before she sat and pushed herself into her work.

--

Loosing track of time was not just a quirk of human behaviour, it existed amongst all species, and Autobots were not immune from this. Elita tilted back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head and yawned. An internal menu popped up in her field of vision alerting her to the need for recharge, which was rather odd as she had already done so for this planetary rotation. It had to be the work load. Taking a holiday was always a nice thing to do, but digipads would still stack up on her desk, the Decepticons didn't hold off their advances while she was incognito, Optimus would make the same lame joke every time they returned, he'd need a holiday to get over the catching up on all the work that built up after his last holiday. Always clumsy with his words expressing that joke, and she always nodded, flashed her optics and laughed.

Her work being completed, she decided on retiring for a quick bout of recharge. If there was one thing she knew, it was being low during a 'con attack that didn't help anyone. She left the room and headed towards her shared quarters.

She was aware that her balance was slightly off, her systems slowly; she was weary that she'd fall into recharge right then and there in the middle of the corridor. Her optics flicked offline for a few seconds and they came back on abruptly as she bumped into something. A loud "Hey!" told her it wasn't a wall.

"Watch where you're goin… oh… Commander… sorry, my mistake I didn't see you there".

Her visual acuity returned that she was able to make out the figure she'd knocked into.

"Oh, no, no no! It's my fault, I was lost in my own little world there, Hot Rod, don't concern yourself!"

"Heh, well, heheh, I'm glad that doesn't just happen to us lowly grunts".

"Excuse me?"

"You know, drifting off into the land of Tribles and YunaZees!"

"Oh, yes, now I understand. Haha".

"You have an nice laugh, you know".

"Why, thank you, Hot Rod, your's is quite pleasing to the audios also".

"Yeah! But I know a heap of femmes and their laughs, Holy Primus, it's like a sleeker's afterburners up against a mound of tarilliumn steel… no offence".

"None taken".

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Well, ah… I better be going, I'm starting my shift soon and Kup's the supervisor, so I better not dawdle".

"Of course, duty first".

"Yeah. Hehe, duty!"

"Well, it was lovely talking to you, Hot Rod".

"Really? I mean, ah… it was good talking to you too".

"Hot Rod, any time you want to talk or discuss anything, _anytime_, you don't hesitate to come see me".

"…um… Thanks".

The two then parted company in an equally awkward manner.

Once Hot Rod was out of visual range the femme commander smiled broadly and at that moment, everything seemed alright. Things were looking up.

--

Deca-cycle, as according to the IDW comics, about 3 weeks


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

"What the slag are you grinning about you wayward trollop?"

"Oh, me? Nothing really… Chromia told me something amusing, an inside joke, really".

"An inside joke? Hmpf. What about, which one you is the bigger whore?"

"Hah, yeah. Something like that?"

"So the tramp admits it! I shouldn't have thought any different. Now get into the berth, I want to 'face".

"Yes, Optimus".

The violence that followed was usual and as usual she offered no resistance.

As usual.

She thought to herself as Optimus took his fancy.

So much for fighting him.

So much for resistance.

So much for putting up on a brave face and winning his respect enough he ceases.

Everything back to usual.

Prime tired himself as usual, and as usual, he slipped into recharge next to her battered form.

"As usual".

She muttered as she pulled herself free from his arms.

The femme commander wandered into their lounge area. Slumping onto the couch she drifted into a tortured recharge.

She woke to laughter.

Prime's laughter.

Which was never good.

As her optics onlined as found him standing over her, his armour removed. He was voiding on her.

Laughing.

Elita held her hands up to protect her face.

"What's the matter, skank? I thought you said you'd take anything I gave you".

His laugh was so malicious.

He was getting worse.

The stream ceased, attached his armour.

"Off to battle the Decepticon scourge, see you later slut".

And Prime left.

He was definitely getting worse. The frustrations of his command obviously getting to him a little more then usual.

She sat on the edge of the couch, dripping with the voidings of her essential master. She tried to avoid releasing the tears that welled within, but she failed. She ran to the bathroom sobbing, she ran a bath of oil and sat herself into the silky black liquid.

Oil was a rarity and did not exist in any natural form on Cybertron. The Quintessons had always imported it for their creations from other worlds. Both Autobots and Decepticons had to outsource the material and it was one of the perks of being bonded to the Autobot Commander, he had an almost limitless supply. However, very few in the lower ranks knew about this as it might be a blow to morale for the masses to learn that Prime took more then his share of the valuable commodity, especially with the intention of bathing in it.

But then there was a lot about Prime that the, as he said, "unwashed heathen masses" didn't know.

A wave of nausea passed over her and she found herself with no choice but to lean over the side of the bath and empty her holding tanks on the floor. The nausea continued along with an even more heavy feeling of exhaustion. She sighed softly, and sat in the black pitch for a few moments more wondering if stress from everything was just getting at her. She clutched at her abdomen in the hope the comfort like motion would act as a placebo and cease the sickness she was experiencing.

It was a rare sensation indeed, one she knew about, but had only ever twice experienced. One of those times had been due to a tainted batch of energon she had ingested, the other from an excessive amount of high grade. The cause she knew of, but had not experienced personally… it slowly dawned on her. Slowly. Her mouth opened somewhat, inwardly not sure if she would empty her tanks again or was simply in shock. She pushed herself up and out of the bath and staggered a few metres before the drain on her systems and exhaustion took their toll, she collapsed on the floor, in stasis.

--

There was a light shining down at her. It was rather annoying. There were hushed voices, they sounded as if they were in the next room, or whispering… perhaps both?

"…round".

"…you…"

"…run those…".

"…ex…"

"…aud… defic…"

"…recalib…"

"…thi… per… plete…"

The whispers were getting louder. They were soon at normal volume for such close proximity. They were in the same room. Whoever they belonged to was standing over her. She could make them out now. Ratchet and a female doctor known as Luscinia. It was taking a few moments for her audios to regain their total functional capacity. When they did, she inwardly feared, Ratchet would make full use of that.

So, she was surprised when he didn't, he simply left. Leaving the femme medic with the commander.

"How are you feeling, Commander?"

"Fine, all things considered. Though, I'm not sure what happened".

"You were exhausted and your CPU initiated an emergency recharge".

"Stasis? I was in stasis?"

"Yes".

Another uncomfortable silence, Elita was use to them by now.

"Anything else?"

Luscinia asked.

"We found various fluids in the bathroom…"

"Oh… I recall purging my tanks, in fact, its the last thing I recall before waking up here".

"Are you not aware of your predicament?"

"What do you mean?"

"Commander, do you know why you purged and then entered stasis?"

"I have been running myself on overdrive for the past few deca-cycles".

"Excuse me, Commander, but I may not be as gruff or as lacking in bedside manner as Ratchet, but I am still quite capable of giving a stern lecture to patients, especially when I know they are lying".

"I don't quite understand what you're getting at, doctor".

"You're pregnant".

Those words cut through the femme commander like one of Megatron's scimitar.

"Is that why Ratchet has left the room?"

"Yes. He thought it best you and I have this conversation, free of male interference or opinion".

"Have what conversation? I am the bondmate of Optimus Prime, we have always wanted a sparkling, this is good news".

"Is it?"

"Of course it is! Why wouldn't it be?"

"You know why".

"Excuse me, _doctor_? Just exactly what are you implying?"

"I know what your precious and highly respected bond mate does to you. It may not be entirely public knowledge but there are enough of us who are aware. Optimus is neigh as discrete as he believes".

"I have no idea what you're on about".

"Of course you do, Elita, you're a smart femme, you'd have to be to reach your post. So lets just cut the crap and discuss your options. You're pregnant and bonded to an ogre who beats you and is a rapist, chances are that sparkling in your belly isn't there with your consent".

"How dare you!"

"How dare I? How _dare _I? You should have been more careful, if you're happy to let Prime treat you the way he does, fine, but now look what's happened? You've brought a sparkling into this, so you two choices now, terminate or let that poor sod be born to a father who will probably lay down on them what he's laid down on you. Either way an innocent life is going to be destroyed because of your lack of care!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! Prime has never struck me and he is no rapist! This child will be loved and wanted, and will be birthed as usual! Now, unless you have something constructive to say, I'm leaving".

"You can't go anywhere, you need to be hooked up to an energon line for at least another two groons, and we have to run tests and scans to be sure you're fit for carrying".

"You will never hear me speak like this again, but go fuck yourself".

Elita ripped the energon line from the junction in her wrist. She stood from the table, swinging her legs so they intentionally knocked the young doctor down.

"And you can tell Ratchet to keep his damn olfactory senses out of our business, and as for you, if so much of a whisper of this is spread around the base, I'll see to it you end up in the berth of Starscream by the end of the meta-cycle

The femme commander growled as she reached the door.

"I'd never release such information, no matter how much I think it needs to be made public".

Luscinia replied, but the pink femme was already gone.

Ratchet was going to be pissed.

--

IDW comics, meta-cycle, 93 hours.

Groon, =/ 1 – 2 hours. Mentioned in "The Magnificent six"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Son of a retro rat!!"

She slammed her fist into the wall of their quarters after she had entered, in a huff. Her systems running at heightened levels of expenditure. Another few blows to the wall before she felt the exhaustion take her, the discomfort in her CPU from where she'd perhaps knocked her head as she fell. She banged her forehead against the wall and groaned irritably as she offlined her optics for a moment.

"Awww, is my pretty lady mad at something? Have a bad day? Misplace a buffer?"

Prime's voice was rather patronising.

Elita looked up from the wall and over towards her bond mate who was seated on the couch, a pile of digipads on the table in front of him next to a large mug of high grade. Taking her hands from the wall and facing him she uttered:

"We need to talk".

"Do we just?"

He replied, nonchalant .

"I'm pregnant".

"And what do you plan to do about it?"

"Excuse me?"

"What do you plan to do about it?"

"Prime! I'm pregnant! With your sparkling no doubt, and all you can do is sit there and ask what _I'm _going to do about it?"

"Yip".

"You're… you're… just _unbelievable_".

Throwing her hands up in frustration she began to pace.

"Well, you have always been telling me it's a femme's business and mechs should keep their damn servos out of it".

There was a hint of a laugh behind his words.

"Optimus! This is serious!! You and I have always talked about having a family, but you can't expect me to be happy about this pregnancy if you continue to treat me as you do!"

"Really?"

"Optimus, I am in no mood or mind to bring a child into a relationship like this, its one thing for you to lay into me with your fists, but a sparkling, I'd never forgive myself!"

"So you'd what, murder your own child to avoid them being fathered by me? You'd fancy yourself a killer of your own energon? Its bad enough you're a filthy whore, but a murderess? Wow, Elita, that's pretty cold blooded of you, as the organics say".

"Prime".

It was rather blunt of her to say. He didn't seem to fancy that, he stood and approached her.

"What are you going to do Prime? Beat the sparkling out of me? Rape me? Well, you know what, Prime, go fuck yourself! I've had enough of your shit! There are plenty of people who care about me, who love me, and who know what you're doing to me, Chromia will help me!"

"Is that so?"

Optimus stood before her, his voice stern and even.

"Yes, that is so! I've had enough Prime! I don't care any more about the morale of the Autobot ranks, I don't care any more about what people will think of me, or of you or of anything, I don't care if they know the truth, if they know you're an abuser, a rapist, a monster!!"

She screamed at him.

"I'm leaving you, and I'll be taking my baby with me and you can just burn in the Pit while all your soldiers abandoned you when they discover your disgusting little secret!"

Her voice started to crack, a rage passing through her she hadn't felt in vorns.

"Oh Elita, you know that's just not true".

His voice continued in that low even pacing.

"You know you don't have the strength to leave me".

He was so close to her now his chest plating was brushing against her's.

"Every time you have one of these little tantrums, where does it get you? Does it find you freedom? Does it find you the safety you think you want?"

He said softly.

"No, Elita, let me tell you what it gets you".

Prime lent in so close to her face she could feel the warmth from his optics as they flashed.

"Actually, on second thoughts… let me show you".

And then he slapped her.

It was a hard strike, but far from containing the usual amount of force he would press into his blows. Still standing, Elita found herself looking down at the floor.

"And if you do tell the world and the world believes you, then what, whore? Will mechs be lined up from here to Rigel Seven? Will there be mechs willing to take you into their berth, to pollute their sheets with your venereal disease infested port? To treat you as a bond mate, as a wife? To give you respect? No, Elita, you are a whore. You are a weak, pathetic little bitch who will never find happiness because you simply don't deserve it. And that putrid thing in your belly? It will never give you happiness either, because you are just too wretched for anyone to love. The only reason I tolerate your sorry self is because there are too few femmes who I find enjoyment in beating".

He then turned and began walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

She asked, tears flowing from her optics.

"Never you mind".

"What do you want me to do with the sparkling?"

"I don't give a fuck".

And Prime was gone, leaving Elita alone in their shared quarters to lament over how sorry her life truly was.

--

It was late.

She was relaxing on the couch waiting for her bond mate to return from his shift. In her hands was a digibook detailing the exploits of a femme warrior from ancient times. A great woman by the name of Beta. A femme who thought along side a young Alpha Trion and was memorialised in all femme literature to a certain degree. She was the woman that Chromia tried to mirror herself against. It was also a family link that she was greatly proud of. Chromia was the great great granddaughter of the amazing liberator. The pastel blue femme had read this work many times, but with the war at its peak, new books weren't exactly being rolled off the presses.

--

He walked without emotional expression along the corridor. It was not a march, nor an amble. To anyone who passed or saw him, they would say he was just walking somewhere with no intent neither benevolent, neutral nor malicious. He just walked. He greeted those who greeted him. He discussed mundane topics with those who brought them up. He smiled with his optics at those who smiled. He shook a few hands of a few young mechs who had not yet seen the big bot in person. He was personable, friendly, and expressed an aura that demanded respect without disregard for those who gave it so freely. Of course, all those who past knew not what his intention was nor how deep and dark his secrets really were.

--

She tucked her feet up under herself as she lent back into the comfort of the couch. The femme had reached the favourite part of this book. The part when Beta was leading a team of rag tag slaves and maintenance bots towards the Quintesson head quarters, ready to rendezvous with A3. The author of the book had reputably been there, though they had always remained anonymous. Reaching out she grasped her mug of energon and took a sip. It was cooling down, but that didn't bother her.

--

Only a flight of stairs, a small sub-division section and two corridors and he'd reach his destination. There were fewer bots in this part of the base.

--

The femme began to hum a tune reported to have been the victory song Beta had written to honour A3.

--

The security panel that prevented any from entering this section of the officers' habitation wing yielded easily under a few liberally used access codes. Another perk of the job, having a raft of access codes that he could use without anyone ever realising it was him. Of course, he'd likely punch the small computer on his exit from this place and after his objective had been completed… just in case.

--

A message over her internal comm. link she shared with her bond mate informed her that he was running late and he wouldn't be back till at least three groons later. Something had come up. And as always, he couldn't tell her what. Of course, given her status in the Autobot ranks she understood fully. She told him she loved him and that'd she still awake for his return.

--

His heavy steps billowed down the corridor. He had no fear or concern regarding disrupting anyone's recharge, there was only one occupant down here at this time for this roster's schedule. It was a lucky break, a fluke, really. Of course, a quick comm. to her bond mate had ensured he would be late in returning to the quarters. Can't be disturbed.

--

Another sip of energon and a stretch of her arms as the book sat on her lap she yawned contentedly, tilting her head backwards and to the side gave her a view of the city below, and of course, an image taken at their bonding ceremony. The happiest day of her life cycle. War or not, life was good. Deciding on a quick bath before the return of her mate, she put the digipad on the table and stood, stretching her arms up over her head.

--

He reached the door, entered the security over ride and entered.

--

She lowered herself down into the bath, filled with a liquid foreign to organic life forms, but definitely not something that was overly valued. Frugality was something both her and her bond mate shared. It was a by-product of the process of melting down scrap. She had been assured that it didn't contain any remnants of her enemies. The steam and smoke was captured, processed and a strange greyish liquid was the result, and it had been discovered, purely by accident, that such a liquid was rather comfortable and useful for bathing in. A few lubricants and polishes would be added in and it would leave a mech or femme looking like they'd just rolled off the assembly line!

--

He walked through the quarters and noted the book on the table. He picked it up and gingerly turned it over in his massive blue digits. "Only a vorn to freedom". He cringed. He'd read this book once; back when he was in school, or the transformer equivalent of it. He hated it. Nothing worse then femme trash. The violence wasn't even well described nor the content that inspiring. He flung it to the couch where it bounced from a pillow and onto the floor, clanking slightly.

--

Reclining back in the liquid she was rather calmed. Warrior or not, she did need a bit of R&R like everyone else.

--

The gentle smell of the liquid wafted out from the bathroom and drifted towards him until it met his olfactory senses.

--

She offlined her optics.

--

He opened the door slowly, carefully, it didn't disturb her. He approached the bath and stood over her.

--

Something wasn't right…

--

"Hello, Chromia."

"Optimus! What are you doing here?"

She screeched as her optics flashed online, pushing herself upwards with her hands gripping the edges of the bath… but then sinking back into the water when she realised she was without armour.

He laughed, but it wasn't one that could be named as good natured.

"I would like to have words with you. Don't bother about getting up, we can have that conversation right here".

"Commander… please, I'm…"

"Perfectly capable of holding a conversation in your current state".

He lowered himself on one knee and then grabbed her by the neck and lifting her upwards and slightly to the right so she was facing him.

"Now, I don't like to repeat myself, you are aware of that trait of mine, correct?"

He punctuated his comment with a tight squeeze.

"Ye…yes".

She whimpered in reply.

"Keep your olfactory senses out of my marriage".

His optics flashed so brightly she was sure they would burn the paint of her faceplates.

"You monster! How dare you call it a marriage! What you do to Elita is fucking criminal!"

The femme found her courage and growled at him.

"Ironhide isn't going to be home for a few groons, now is he? So, I'm sure that'll give us enough time to _thrash_ this out in detail".

She didn't like the way he enunciated "thrash".

And that's when Prime began what Prime had become ever so good at, - beating women.

Flinging her naked, wet form against the wall of the bathroom he gave a small laugh. Looking up at him from where she landed she snarled like a hurt animal. She ran at him, landing several strong blows against his massive chest. A chuckled reverberated from him and he balled his right hand into a fist and then slammed it down on her shoulder, cleaving a good dent into her delicate armour. Dropping to the ground with the force she began to cradle her injured joint. Optimus regarded her for a few moments, but not with respect, but with a lust she'd seen in many a Decepticon's optics before she tore them free. Fear crept into her spark as she realised what might be coming up next. He reached down and grabbed her by the top of the head, holding her at his optics level he gave her a grin evidenced by the light in his optics.

"Now, Chromia, that could be construed as treason, striking the supreme commander of the Autobot army. You will have to be punished, and I think I know a few ways to do it".

Chromia launched a flurry of punches and kicks against his body, it would do no good.

"Elita used to fight like that, keep it up if you'd like, it didn't do her any good though".

The Autobot leader slammed the back of her head into the edge of the door frame a few times until her movements slowed and became sluggish.

He carried her out into the main lounge of the quarters where he then dropped her on the ground. Chromia looked up, horrified as she noticed he was unclipping the latches on his armour.

"No!"

She screamed at him, finding strength, though somewhat unsteady, she thrust her legs out, her feet connecting with his knees knocking him backwards, he lost balance and fell back over the couch, landing hard on the table, shattering the delicate glass like top. The second in command of the femme unit didn't waste any time, there was never any shame in knowing when to pull back, knowing when there was an opponent you couldn't win a battle against, and this was one of those moments. Prime struggled to get his footing and pull himself out of the tangled mess of couch, table and glass, out of the corner of his optic he noticed the blue and grey femme making a go for the door.

"Not today, bitch".

Prime grabbed a piece of metal from the table and hurled at her, it struck her in the back between the shoulder blades digging deep through the metal plating of her armour and missing her linkage column by mere millimetres. Chromia lost her balance and fell forward, slamming into the door before slumping to the floor. She struggled to get back on her feet, or at least stretch her arm out with enough distance to hit the panel's button to open the door.

He laughed as he pulled himself free of the mesh and he approached her, her optics belaying the horror she was now realising that the door was actually locked.

"Hmm, forgot I did that".

Optimus relayed in regards to the security code he had entered.

Reaching down he pulled her by the leg and flung her back across the apartment where she slammed into a shelf containing various nick knacks from various worlds Ironhide and she had visited in their long military careers. The whole thing came shattering down on top of her. He was casual in his approach to her. Equally casual as he kicked the remains of the shelf from her and dragged her towards the bed room.

"Please…"

She begged.

"Please…"

He tossed her mindlessly onto the berth.

"IF you have any respect for my husband, you won't do this in his berth".

Optimus stood silently for a moment considering this.

"You're right, how foolish of me, how dastardly of me".

He grabbed her by the hips and then hurled her through the wall into the bathroom.

"I must show Ironhide respect".

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, highly thought of and a true and brave warrior, defender of freedom, held Chromia's head down the waste disposal unit as he raped her from behind.

For the next groon Optimus carried out appallingly depraved acts of sexual deviance against the femme.

After which he proceeded to beat her so savagely that Chromia would remain in stasis until long after the Ark had crashed into Earth.

--

**Author's NB: **Well, I'm sure if you didn't hate Prime you hate him now. Believe it or not, I actually know of a case where an abuser went to the house of his partner's best friend and raped her then beat her, why? Because she had told his partner to escape him and had managed to get her out and into protection.

I'm actually writing this more for my own sanity as much as a "wake up people, this happens" thing. I see too much crap in my job, and there are women you meet who you know will keep getting beaten and raped and they will keep returning to their partner who does such things and then one day, you know their name will be in the obits. And there's nothing you can do.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's NB: **To address a few queries from the reviews:

1. Yes, it was a pointed thought on my part to select Prime and Elita as the couple of this story. Why? Abuse, is based on power, or the need to feel it. Optimus has a great deal of power, both physically and from the command position he possesses. But sometimes such power isn't enough. The reality is domestic violence isn't prone to just those of lower socio-economic groupings or drug addicts regardless of what the media says. The worse abusers are usually those you least suspect – such as Optimus. Elita also plays an excellent victim because of her position. To the outside she is powerful and confident, so may feel reluctance and shame to reveal her secret, not to mention, it is unlikely in her view that any will believe her.

2. The attack on Chromia, well, that was necessary to express just to what lengths Prime will go to hide his nasty little secret.

3. Without wanting to give too much away, there will be more Decepticon involvement.

4. I make no apologies for the level of violence, both emotional and physical in this story. As bad as people may think this story is, there are women experiencing far worse violence at the hands of people who are supposed to love them. I want people to realise this shit happens and that keeping quiet or "minding your own business" is not helpful. Not to mention, there are studies slowly trickling out relaying a horrific amount of violence in same sex relationships.

5. And really, come on, there's worse crap on fanfiction then a story about domestic violence. Frankly, how many stories does a site need detailing sadomasochist slash or mech pregnancy?

**Chapter Sixteen**

His entrance into their quarters was disconcerting. He rushed over to her where she sat upon the couch still, deep in thought. Dropping to his knees he grabbed her upper arms.

"Elita! You listen to me, alright? If anyone asks anything about where I've been tonight, you tell them I've been here all night, got it?"

"What… Optimus? What are you on about?"

"JUST TELL THEM I WAS HERE, BITCH!!"

He gave her a slap to the face to make sure she understood.

"Alright… what were we doing?"

"Alone having a quiet night, couple stuff… I don't know, just say I was here. I don't think anyone will ask, but in case they do, you say I was here, got it?"

"Yes, yes, Optimus, I had it the first time".

"Now about this sparkling business, I've been thinking… it was wrong of me to offload all responsibility on you. Its my sparkling too, I've always wanted a sparkling, to be able to be a creator in this way. It's a great honour, not every mech or femme has this opportunity. I think it'd be an affront to Primus to throw this gift back in his face".

"Are you saying I can keep this child?"

"What I'm saying is we must keep this child".

"Oh… Optimus!"

Elita was suddenly flustered with feelings of real joy, something she hadn't experienced in many, many cycles.

"But Prime… you… you have to change".

"I know, Elita. I will try. As long as you don't try my patience, I will change. If only for the sake of the sparkling".

"Thank you, Prime".

"Now, I think you two better get to recharge".

Elita smiled, a genuine smile that both she nor Prime had experienced in quite some time. She turned, he caught her by the wrist and then pulled her into his arms, retracting his battle mask he kissed her, and another experience time had caused her to forget, it was sincere. The moment ended, peacefully, and she left for the berth. To sleep. Unimpeded by brutality.

Optimus simply went to his study where he began to pry over digipads and various maps and star charts. He was biding his time. Eventually he'd receive a panicked comm. message or a frantic knock on the door would have to rouse him to play poker face to the events he had caused.

That moment came about half a groon later.

But it was no loud bang nor frantic comm. link exchange. It was Ironhide. It informed Prime rather matter of factly that someone had attacked Chromia and that she was seriously injured, and also, Prime, please come to the repair bay immediately.

That, of course, meant Ironhide was very, very worried. He'd usually bark out a string of unpleasant semantics when he was concerned or angry, but when he was cool, calm and collected, it meant he was beyond concerned.

Optimus stood, steadied himself and gave himself a quick going over in front of the mirror, making sure there were no obvious scratches or spots of energon that could give hint to the fact he'd been the one who had pummelled that mouthy bitch into the floor.

--

Ironhide was sitting on a bench closest to the entrance into the operating theatre.

Red Alert was standing in front of him with Kup trying to get a statement but Ironhide couldn't' give much more then "I came home and found her like that".

Magnus and Prowl were there also, and their optics became fixed to Optimus when he entered… almost a glare… could it be? No…

"Ironhide…"

He said softly as he respectfully pushed between Red and Kup. Sitting down next to his old friend and cupping his hand over the old warrior's shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do for you, old friend?"

Ironhide looked up and met the optics of his closest friend and commander.

"You can get the retro-rat who did this".

"Consider it done".

He took his hand away and clasped them in his lap.

"Red Alert, Kup, I'm sure whatever questions you have can wait".

"Yes, Prime".

Kup agreed. Red Alert looked like he was about to go off on some paranoid spiel but thought better of it when he felt an even heavier hand on his shoulder, Magnus' strong blue optics staring at him, a voiceless order to leave, now.

"Commander, we need to have a conversation".

Magnus stated as Red Alert passed him, a few hurried steps to catch up with Kup.

"Magnus, it's just going to have to wait, there are more important things right now…"

"No, Prime, you go. Megatron isn't going to hold off on his mischief just because Chromia is in the repair bay, plus, if there's any chance that Magnus' words might help find the guy, then its best you hear it".

"Are you sure?"

"Something tells me I'm going to be here a while, Prime".

"Very well, old friend. I will come back later and check on you, on both of you".

"Thank you Prime".

Optimus stood and with Magnus and Prowl exited the repair bay.

"This conversation is better had in my office".

Magnus said bluntly.

The three uttered no words between each other as they walked towards their destination.

--

Magnus opened the door and let the other two walk into the large room that served as a very busy and information cluttered office, all of it in its place and each place labelled meticulously. Once the office was secured against "accidental interruptions" Magnus simply came out with it:

"Where were you last night, Prime?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where were you last night?"

Magnus asked again.

Prowl said nothing from his vantage in the corner.

"I was with my bondmate for most of it. I left my office after our meeting and if you ask my secretary I'm sure she'll confirm for you that I went straight home".

"I'm sure both those sources will confirm your whereabouts".

Ultra Magnus crossed his massive arms over his broad chest and continued to stare at the commander.

"What is this all about? Magnus?"

"You'll forgive my invasion, Commander, but whoever attacked Chromia used high level Autobot security access codes. We're questioning all officers and those with access in this same manner".

"I see".

"How has Elita been, by the way, Prime?"

"She has been well".

"I hope you don't think we're accusing you of anything, Prime, but if I were to converse with Elita on this matter, she would confirm your whereabouts?"

"I would hope so".

"And what was the nature of your time with Elita, last night?"

"Ultra Magnus, exactly what do you believe is the nature between two bonded Transformers?"

"Again, apologies, Commander, but we need to be able to establish the location and business of all officers for last night".

"Have you perhaps considered that a Decepticon came into possession of said codes, after all, Elita was brutally attacked by a Decepticon spy, who also happened to cause damage to the work on the Ark".

"The events surrounding Elita's attack and the Ark's sabotage is part of a larger ongoing investigation, we still haven't found enough evidence to link those events with what took place against Chromia".

"And what do you have to say about all this, Prowl? You're supposed to be our tactician and logistics officer, surely you must have some logical theory to explain away all of these… _shenanigans_".

Optimus turned to face the black and white mech who stood stoically in the corner of the office, taking in the as he did, the conversation.

"There are several theories with several mechanisms of behaviour behind them. The most prevalent that we must give most consideration too, is that Megatron has launched these attacks not with any malicious aforethought to Elita or Chromia, but rather to strike out at higher ranking officers and morale. Elita is your bondmate and Chromia is the bondmate of Ironhide, an Autobot who has caused many problems for Megatron in the past".

"That seems like too low a blow, even for Megatron".

Ultra Magnus said firmly.

"This is Megatron we're talking about; it wouldn't be the first case we have evidence of where he has engaged in less then morally forthright behaviour".

Optimus needed to make sure these two didn't push further into their investigation if it would lead them closer to the real culprit.

"Other then the Decepticons… and myself, hah, do you have any other suspects?"

Prime added.

"To be fair, you're not a suspect, Optimus, all we're simply doing is checking the whereabouts of all those who have access to these codes".

Prowl explained.

"Well, regardless, its important your investigation is not heeded by bias or loyalty, I commend you on your approach. If you need any resources, take them with my blessing. In the meantime, have Red Alert go over the security footage of all habitation wings and in particular have him re-secure these codes. But I want it known that the Ark is our top priority, whatever investigation you undertake, be sure it does not distract you from your roles on the launch".

The commander said firmly.

"I will dismiss myself, good evening to you gentlemen".

And Optimus left.

"What do you think?"

Prowl asked Magnus simply.

"I think if Prime is involved he wouldn't be stupid enough to leave any evidence lying around".

"And if he is the culprit?"

"The truth has a funny way of wriggling itself free of the dark, Prowl".


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

When by Transformer standards it was morning, Elita pushed herself slowly out of the berth she found herself to be alone in. Whether Prime had come to join her when he said he would and had left before she woke, she could not be sure, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time he did not follow through with a promise or statement… at least to her.

The femme commander stumbled wearily out into the main chamber of their quarters. She sat down on the couch for a few moments, to just gain a little more energy. The pregnancy was early, but it was already taking a good chunk of her energy, with that said, she wasn't really looking after herself anyway. Long hours, major battles, slack recharge habits, quick servings of substandard energon… it all took its toll, and while her behaviour may have been less then friendly to her usual functions, to add a sparkling into the mix, it just made everything just that little bit worse. A sigh turned into a yawn which turned into her offlinning her optics and resting her head back on the couch, these actions slipped her into recharge.

It was Luscinia who woke her. It wasn't a frantic voice, but it was one that irritated the commander. Elita activated her optics slowly with the increasing dim a warning to whoever had disturbed her; the femme doctor didn't appear to be deturbed.

"Commander, I need to speak with you".

"Hence the reason you barged in here and woke me".

"Well, for starters you should have been on duty six groons ago, but everyone has been so pre-occupied with recent events that they just assumed you were busy with the same or at Chromia's side".

"And why would I be at Chromia's side?"

"Where was Optimus last night, Elita?"

Her voice relayed a tone that was firm and confrontational, one which was after a particular answer, or at the very least not willing to be dismissed.

"He was here, with me, where else do you expect him to be?"

"I'm not sure, but given his recent behavioural patterns I'm less then inclined to take your word for it".

"You will take my word for it, because I order you to take my word for it".

"I could have you relieved of command by virtue of the fact I am a doctor and one who knows some of your history to be rather… how shall I say… counterproductive to your position".

"Enough of your double talk, Luscinia, what do you want? Why have you come here?"

"Have you not heard of Chromia's condition?"

"Do I look like I know what you speak of? What of Chromia!?"

She was abrupt, loud. Standing now.

"Chromia was attacked last night".

"What?"

Elita was truly shocked at this news.

"Who, who attacked her? Is she okay?"

"We're not sure who attacked her…"

"Is that why you were asking about Prime, do you think he did this?"

"Funny how you jump to the conclusion that I was inquiring as to whether Prime would be responsible!"

"Oh please! Spare me your pseudo-psychiatry! Optimus is not responsible, whatever is wrong with Chromia, it was not caused by my husband. He was here with me all night and we were celebrating our joyous news that we are expecting".

"With all due respect, _commander, _you are completely full of it! Prime is treating you like slag! He beats you and Primus only knows what else! It may not be obvious to anyone else, and you may try to deny it, but I can see it as clearly as I see you right now! Elita! For Primus' sake! You…"

Luscinia suddenly found herself on the floor, a little confused as to how she got there. Looking up she saw the femme commander standing there, her right hand balled into a tight fist.

"We've had this conversation. And I made it clear that I would not continue this foolish line of thinking that your paranoid little CPU has crafted. Prime is not some wife beating ogre, he is my bondmate, and the supreme commander of the Autobot force. You will owe him more respect. And you will owe me more. I will hear no more of this… rubbish!"

"You haven't even asked about Chromia! You're so busy trying to cover up Prime's brutish ways you don't even care about your friend!"

"Chromia is a tough Autobot femme. She will recover from whatever alignment she finds herself in. Now get out!"

"You don't care do you? You're so obsessed with protecting your reputation and Prime's that you don't' care that someone, probably Prime, raped and beat Chromia into stasis, not even Ratchet knows if she'll wake".

"Get out. **NOW**".

"Elita! Commander! Please! This isn't just about you taking a knock from Prime anymore, he's out of control. Because of your bondmate! Chromia! _Your best friend, _lies in a stasis, and your child! Elita! For the love of Primus! You have to just come out with the truth, not just to end this horror for yourself, but for your child and to at least get Chromia some justice".

"I'm not going to repeat myself".

The medic suddenly found herself facing Elita's rifle.

"Go".

"Alright. Fine. You deny this all you want, but he's not going to stop".

Luscinia turned and left.

Elita stood there. Solemnly. Not sure whether she should worry about the medic keeping her mouth shut. Of course, Elita knew there wouldn't likely be a lot of Autobots who'd believe such propaganda.

"What have you gone and done, Prime".

She whispered as she dropped her rifle and slumped to the ground.

"What have you done?"

She started to cry.

--

It took just over a groon for Elita to regain some level of functioning and professional composure. If it was true, she considered, that Chromia had been beaten into stasis, she was likely to need to make an appearance, if only to ensure no further rumours were spread from Luscinia. Medical privacy or not, that femme medic was known to have a mouth on her, it didn't help that she was often correct and so her stories were known to be factual.

The femme commander made her way to the repair bay first, unsure if it was the wisest course of action, but given her position it probably wouldn't look good if she appeared at the femme base to be asked why she wasn't at the side of her friend.

She found Ratchet to be having a rather in-depth and complicated conversation with Perceptor, probably regarding the femme second in command.

"Elita One, I was hoping you would stop by, we are in need of some information, and perhaps you, as one of Chromia's close acquaintances, would be able to provide us with such. You see, Elita, we are particularly concerned regardin…"

"Perceptor, please, I have heard that Chromia has been attacked, and I came here to see her. Whatever questions you have, I'll be happy to answer them, but I need you to make it quick".

The pink femme interrupted the scientist, who was not in the least bit offended, given such interruptions tended to be a daily occurrence.

"Elita…"

Ironhide stood in the doorway.

"I thought I heard you".

He came out from the side room and draped his massive arms around her frame.

"Oh, Ironhide, I am so sorry".

She whispered into his audio.

He took it to mean it was her way of offering condolences, as there was no real reason she had to genuinely apologise.

"Come on; come see 'Mia, the doc's can chat with you later".

Ironhide took her by the hand and led her into the enclosed single room where her second lay hooked up to various mechanisms of life support.

"Ratchet's trying to stay perky about the whole thing, but I ain't stupid, Lita, I've been in enough battles and looked down at enough friends and foes to know when I'm looking at someone who's about to cycle their last".

"Ironhide, you mustn't talk like that. Chromia is strong, you know that, she'll pull through".

"I wish I had your optimism, but her injuries are pretty bad hammered in. Whoever did this, they wanted her offline, I'm just surprised they didn't stay to make sure they had finished the job".

"Well, then be thankful for their ineptitude".

Ironhide sat down by his mate's side a clasped her limp hand, flakes of energon still dried on around the knuckles. The doctors had more important things to do for Chromia then clean her off. The femme commander stood at Chromia's side watching the screens flash numbers and lines and dots and things that she didn't' understand but was sure meant that Chromia was indeed, very sick.

"It shouldn't have to be like this… Chromia, she's a warrior! She should have been offlined on the battlefield, not beaten by some coward in her own quarters!"

Elita said nothing in response, how could she?

"And what's worse, I could have been there, I should have been there, but instead I was going the extra distance for Prime, for duty and doing an extra couple of groons to catch up on some project".

She remained silent.

"She was pregnant, Elita, did you know that?"

Elita took a couple of stumbling steps backwards, shock taking from her any words she could have offered in sympathy.

"We'd been trying a while; I'd almost given up being a papa".

They were both silent for several moments.

"She told me you two were trying…"

"Twins".

"oh, Ironhide".

"You know how rare twins are? That mouthy twit Perceptor went off with all his fancy numbers and statistics about it. Ratchet said they tried to save the kids, but Chromia took a turn in surgery and they had to focus on her. The sparklings perished because their link to Chromia was severed".

Elita found her hands go mindlessly to her abdomen, subconsciously thinking the external act would offer the sparkling within her a little more protection.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

She asked, not sure if there could be an answer.

"Yes".

Ironhide spun around on the chair and faced her.

"You can go tell Prime how much you love him! How lucky you are to have him and how much you want to spend your life with him! Elita, us mechs, especially us mechs in this mess of a war, we get a little caught up in the brutality and the shedding of energon and the Decepticon bashing, we forget that there are those around us who love us. We forget about our friends and family and bondmates, we can't afford to do that. We need to be reminded of our links, of why we're doing the fighting in the first place. Oh shucks…"

Ironhide turned back to his mate, trying to hide the tears that welled out in his optics, he failed miserably and simply went quiet, his shoulders slumping, his hands gripping Chromia's hand and then holding it to his face he wept.

Elita decided to take that as an indication to leave the mech to his grief.

She found Perceptor had left the main chamber of the repair bay, Ratchet was alone checking over digipads and other equipment necessary for his task.

"Elita, I'd like words with you please".

"I'm afraid its going to have to wait, doctor. Contact my secretary and get her to schedule you in some…"

"No, Elita. Now".

She looked at him, her optics narrowing.

"Your husband doesn't scare me, you can't either. Now take a seat".

He kicked it over to her and she caught the back with her hand. She sat.

"Now Elita, I don't care much for idiots or mechanisms who get themselves into such antics that cause injury. But I have less time for those who endanger others with their shenanigans. So, I'm only going to say this once, I know Luscinia had words with you, and I know she was less then successful. I know you're carrying and I know Prime is less then gentle in his approach, I'm not at liberty to offer an opinion about whether or not Prime is responsible for Chromia lying in there…"

"Ratchet! How dare…"

Elita began as she stood up, pointing a finger at him.

"Sit down and shut up".

He said firmly, without actually having to raise his voice. A trick he'd learnt many thousands of vorns ago from a respected mentor.

"Basically, we all have demons we have to live with. Ghosts that will haunt us. Actions we have committed that nothing we do can change it. You have to live with what you know, with what you know goes on. I don't envy you, Elita, so all I'll say is,_ what can you live with_?"

The CMO turned and walked towards a bench and began sifting through a range of miscellaneous objects.

Elita could see he wasn't going to say anything else, and there was no point really in her adding her opposition or offence. She left.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Commander!"

Elita spun around to find herself almost being bowled over by an over enthused Moonracer.

"Commander! Oh my Primus! Have you heard? Have you heard about Chromia! Oh my gosh!"

"Moonracer, calm yourself. And yes, I have heard".

"Oh right, how silly of me, how could you have not heard! You're only like the commander of our little rag tag bunch of femmes! But how bad is it? I heard Ironhide shattered Ratchet's optics when the doc asked if Chromia was a spare parts donor. Then I heard that Chromia was offline. Then I heard she was okay and actually had defected to the Decepticons but I knew that couldn't be true! So I was going try and find you and ask and here you are so now I'm asking you".

"Moonracer".

"And then I was talking to Flippy and she said that Chromia was having an affair and that she was pregnant with her lover's sparkling and that Ironhide found out about it and beat the crap out of her lover and then accidently knocked Chromia, and we all know how bulky and brutish Ironhide is and so he was too powerful for her and knocked her down and she was all like stasis lock. Then Cylindery was saying that was all crap and that Chromia had serious gambling debts and when she couldn't pay…"

"MOONRACER! Be quiet. I don't even know what falsehood to address first. Yes, Chromia is unwell, yes she was attacked, Kup and Prowl are in charge of the investigation to find out whom. No, I don't think she was pregnant. No, I don't think it was due to any kind of love triangle or gambling or clumsy bondmate. Now, I'll be happy to address your questions with as much information as I can give without violating Chromia's privacy, but I do not have time for such conversations right now. So, please, Moonracer, go about your duties and try to stay focussed. I'm sure you can visit Chromia once your shift has been completed".

Moonracer seemed to calm down at her CO's scolding.. even though, when Elita wanted to, her scoldings came across more as suggestions or gentle commentaries.

"I'm sorry, Elita, I'm just so gosh darn concerned about Chromia, she's been so good too me, and I just don't want her to go offline, because, well, there's so much I want to say to her and I should have said it when I had the chance and now I might not get the chance".

"I understand, Moonracer. But we are in a war, you should always consider that and your friends when you complete your recharge cycle each rotation. Perhaps this is an opportunity to all of us, to learn that there are other methods that could send us to the Matrix other then what we meet on the battlefield. Now, why don't you go complete your shift, then worry about Chromia".

The younger femme appeared as if she wanted to say more, but the look in her optics told the commander she considered it, thought better of it and then simply acknowledged the commander as being correct and returned to her duty.

The pink Autobot found herself standing in a very bleak and lifeless corridor, wondering if she had given the right advice, and regardless, telling the younger warrior to simply go about her business was a rather blunt observation of how she lived her own cycle.

--

Upon reaching the femme compound she found herself besieged by her troops with all manner of questions, all regarding Chromia, and most were the same statements and rumours that Moonracer had inquired about. Elita hushed them with a repeat of what she had told the earlier annoyance and then encouraged them back to their tasks.

Once the final stragglers had accepted her explanations and heeded her instructions the femme commander found herself rather alone, she sighed with relief and preceded to her office. Elita sat down slowly, her hands supporting her weight as she lowered herself into her chair. When she had settled into a comfortable position she eyed the stack of digipads, files and other assortments of bureaucracy. Staring at them for a moment she found her mind blank, completely empty of real thought and hoping at least that lack of enthusiasm would warrant less energy on thinking about the real issues bothering her. The silence in her office started to nag her. She reached out and picked up a digipad, it was detailing an operation carried out against a small Decepticon base close to one of their former bases, the mission was requested by the Autobot supreme command and its intentions were to discover whether the Decepticons had a reason for being near a dead Autobot base, especially one that had been stripped of anything useful. It went on to detail the numbers of operatives sent, the weaponry dedicated to the assault if there was to be one, a pre-estimation of causalities was listed in a column next to actual causalities, there were several maps and personal files for the Decepticons that had been discovered to be operating out of that small base.

Elita had to question, and she had questioned, the usefulness of such a mission, but it had been insisted on and she had been overruled. Now, looking at the fact that four femmes had been offlined, two seriously injured, three suffering minor injuries and one who was MIA angered her. Such statistics wouldn't' have bothered most mech commanders, but the reality was, only ten femmes had been sent on the mission and all had been taken out of commission because of it! The pre-mission estimates had stated at the very most, only one to be injured, and certainly no mention of an offlinning, let alone four. There had been a failure of intelligence at some point, and no one, as per usual, was willing to take responsibility for it. Chromia's name appeared at the bottom of the file, she had been the one to have written it. She had been the mission's strongest objector, demanding reasons from the high command as to why such a mission had to be undertaken and what, if any, gains could be made from it? Of course she was ignored; she was a femme after all.

The commander tossed the file across the room where it shattered against the wall, quietly enraged at the lack of respect her unit was being shown. How many arguments had she had in meetings or in private with her bondmate, over how the femmes were not cannon-fodder, and why were they being used as target practice for the Decepticons where their unique build and skills made them excellent spies and sharp shooters? But the mech dominated high command would have none of it. She was told to be quiet and be thankful she could carry the title "commander", with a lower case "c" of course.

The next series of digipads relayed to her information pertaining to supplies, suggested improvements to both the base and rostering system and a new war game training exercise regiment. She marked those off and continued with her work. Recalling when she had been Aerial and after Alpha Trion had rebuilt her, she never thought that being a "leader" would involve so much pointless paperwork and aft kissing. After being rebuilt, the leadership was still being formed, the Autobots were not so much an army or an organisation rather small groups of resistance, it took Prime and Alpha Trion to finally unite all the different commanders and bring all the smaller units under one command structure. There had been times in Autobot history where they were more amalgamated, particularly during the war against the Quints; of course the Decepticons had been fighting right along side them. It was when Megatron took command that the Decepticons got really organised, no longer a division of squabbling megalomaniacs and mini-tyrants. Megatron pulled the Decepticons into a force that became the most powerful in all the galaxy and the Autobots were really the only ones who could stop them – if they could get their slag together. And at least the Decepticons respected and utilised effectively their own small band of femmes. The rumours abounding there was that Megatron had his own bondmate who ruled over the 'con femmes with the same power a sub-commander in the Autobot forces would hold. That the Decepticon women, while mostly vicious tramps (as the Autobot propaganda pushed), were well liked by their male counterparts and not treated as whores or house slaves, and certainly not raped or beaten by those that claimed to love them.

Elita pulled her thoughts back from such musings and tried to refocus.

"A warm mug of energon will calm my nerves".

She said out loud to the empty room.

It wasn't long before she was back in front of that stack that represented a great big mundane waste of time. She sipped slowly at the hot energon and tapped the index finger of her other hand on the keyboard of her computer consol. It activated and brought up a schedule of the next few deca-cycles. She groaned irritably as she realised that the meetings that were laid out ahead of her were with sub-standard officers and lowly maintenance droids. Even having been afforded the title of "commander", very rarely was she given permission to attend meetings with the high command where intelligence and war strategies were discussed. The topics she was given consideration for was "morale boasting", and "scouting missions", or an example, the debacle that Chromia had detailed so aptly sitting in a digipad that was in a couple of large chunks on the floor of the opposite side of her office.

"Perhaps I do need to just get out of this".

She lent back and rested her hand over her belly, wondering how far advanced her sparkling was and what form it was taking. What it be mech or femme, quiet and gentle or a loud mouth brute like their father? The thought of the child being cursed with a personality like Prime's chilled her blood. But then, weren't such behaviours learned? Maybe leaving all this would be the best thing for her, for the sparkling, for the femmes?

But would they go with her?

Had Chromia not been pounded into sheet metal by Prime, an exaggeration to be sure, then she would have listened to her commander's insecurities and perhaps offered advice to solve the situation. But would she leave Ironhide? No, never. But she might be more inclined to let the femme unit leave without her… maybe? And Chromia, though a warrior at heart, had always said she'd settle down if she was to fall with sparkling, the battlefield was no place for a pregnant femme. It might have been the blessing in disguise Elita needed to escape Prime, Chromia, pregnant, happy for the femmes to move on and disconnect from the larger Autobot force.

Then again, what of the other femmes? Moonracer would happily follow Elita anywhere, the young warrior was always trying to impress upon her sisters that she was just as good as they were and if she wasn't, she'd learn. But she had a lot of mech friends, and the girl was quite… to be polite about it… "trampy". The lack of mech affection and attention might slowly wear the girl down to the point where she'd just up and leave, or do something reckless, her CPU occupied with memories of the berths of mechs.

Firestar, well… there was another rouge element. She was a rescuer at heart, and her heart also lay with Inferno. While a skilled solider, the red femme did tend to focus more on rescue and operations which required such actions. But who really knew?

Elita put the mug down and rested her head into her right hand. There were so many variables, some would come with her no doubt, but many others, the back bone of the femme unit, probably wouldn't. And with Chromia in a coma, well, chances were that the unit might start to fracture without the strong guidance of the fierce old warrior femme.

Could she just leave? Could she put down her life and her responsibilities here and just go AWOL? Would the Autobots hunt her? Would she be considered a traitor? Perhaps she could fake her own death, Primus knew with all explosions going on lately that wouldn't be too hard. They could drop it on whoever they were blaming Chromia's current predicament upon. Whereas their responses to her departure would be numerous, what about her own? Could Elita, femme commander, warrior, could she take off somewhere into the pitch of the universe, find some place where people went to not be found and raise a sparkling? Being a single mother in any species was difficult, but for one that belonged to a race that was embroiled in a civil war? Not to mention an Autobot femme grabbed attention, whether she wanted it or not. What would the child ask? As the sparkling aged would he want to know more about their father? What would she say to that? What would she say about any of their questions? She could tell them their father was offline… but if Prime ever found them… and he probably would… or he'd send others out to do his dirty work.

Her mind drifted to termination… it seemed a gross contradiction to debate with herself that the sparkling would be better off dead. And that's what termination was. It didn't make it so the sparkling had never existed; it didn't turn back time on their creation. It was killing, plain and simple. And it was the worst kind of killing. The sparkling didn't have any way to defend itself, no way to scream or cry for help, the sparkling would struggle against the implements introduced into their mother's body to dislodge it, but it would loose. It would die. It was a simple complexity to kill in battle. The enemy knew as well as she did, as well as they all did, that entering into a war, onto the battlefield, it meant you could be offlined, the enemy knew it and you knew it and it made it easier when you aimed your rifle and fired. It meant that you all knew that if you died at the end of someone else's laser, that you knew it was a risk and you took that risk and that people died and that if you died… well… you knew it could happen. It wasn't really killing, or murder, or whatever semantic one used to excuse it. It was death, but it wasn't your fault, it was the war. But termination… that small, precious child growing in the darkness of their mother's belly, she wasn't a Decepticon criminal or a warrior out to slit you open and spill your innards on the battlefield; they weren't a faceless, nameless being who marched towards you with intent to kill you. This was her own child. Crafted with her own programming and nanites. Her own materials. This was her child. And termination would kill that child. She would be the worst kind of killer, a femme who killed her own child. A callous act to be sure.

But was it?

What would that sparkling say to her vorns down the track after a life with Prime as a father? After beatings and verbal abuse and perhaps rape, after watching his father beat his mother? Mother, why didn't you terminate me? I wouldn't have known! I wouldn't have cared! I would have been safe! I would have been dead! I would have never known the fists of my father against my face or his hands on your body as he forced me to watch him violate you! Mother! You should have killed me!

But killing was an offence against hope!

When Elita was Aerial her mother had once told her that termination was wrong because it was a crime against hope. She hadn't understood that, but when she spent nights on the cold floor of the bathroom, moping up her energon that Prime had spilled. When she sat in hot tubs trying to scrub the filth away after her bondmate's ravaging, she understood.

Its why she stayed with Prime.

Hope.

Hope he would one day wake from recharge, realise the errors of his ways and change.

Termination killed your own child because you couldn't see hope. Elita's mother had said "You say to yourself, I have no energon, I don't have enough creds, the father is gone, I am not ready. But these are concepts that focus on the now. How will you feel if you terminate today and tomorrow you get a new job, or someone offers you a house to stay in or the father proposes? Sure, life is not as simple, it is not always surrounded by a glow of joy. But it's hope that leads to people wanting to build a better future. You think those people fighting the Decepticons are saying "why bother, we are going to loose, we might as well surrender to the Decepticons? WE have no warriors, our leaders don't know what they're doing, we have not enough guns?" No! They are fighting because they see hope in the future! Hope that the war will be over! That is why termination is wrong, because it tells your spark that you have no hope, and without hope, you may as well be offline yourself".

Elita would often access that conversation from her databanks and relay it through her CPU in those dark, apparently hopeless moments in bathrooms, in berths, in whatever environment Prime decided to unleash his bestial fury upon her.

It was naïve, though.

Maybe things would work out. Maybe the war would end. Maybe Prime would get his act together and treat Elita with respect.

But how long had she been hoping for that? How many vorns, how many millennia, how many long agonising nights had she been battered and cursed and spat on and raped? Termination? It would follow her to her final moment. The guilt would eat her alive. But at the end of the day, perhaps it was the best option?

If Chromia was here, she'd have some advice, some words, something to say that would mirror her own mother's words, something that would make her say "You're right, I can do this!"

Of course, chances were Chromia would blow a gasket, "You're pregnant and you're considering a termination? What the hell is wrong with you! Do you know how many nights I've spent crying in Ironhide's arms because we couldn't fall? Do you know how many times I've seen my bondmate's optics give away a hint of intense sadness and disappointment when the scans came back negative for sparkling activity? How many femmes and mechs do you know that want a child so badly and here you are with one growing healthily in your belly and you want to kill it? Don't be a selfish bitch!"

Well… maybe not quite like that, but it'd be words to the effect.

Then the other side of the coin was, if she terminated, and Prime found out… how would he react? Would he inflict "replacement sparkling syndrome" on her? Where he'd rape her to try and get her pregnant again? Maybe, probably, but Prime didn't really need an excuse for his behaviour towards her, especially that sort of behaviour. Perhaps he'd go to far, perhaps he'd kill her?

Only time would tell.

And she had some time.

She just had to wait.

Wait and hope.

--

Deca-cycle (TFA) 10 days.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

For Optimus, once the _unpleasantness_ of last night's events had been pushed aside for more pressing matters, his day went rather smashingly. There were a raft of meetings that all gave the commander good news, positive estimates of future mission casualties and objectives, construction of the Ark was not only back on schedule but was _ahead_ of schedule, a new group of Autobots had arrived on Cybertron after chasing a group of renegade Decepticons – and they had returned with success. The best news was their energon stores had been underestimated and they actually possessed eight point three percent more, which Prime ordered to be funnelled into the Ark's production.

The conversation was now focussed on the Decepticon construction of their own shuttle.

"Bumblebee has been sent to investigate the construction process of this shuttle, and to attempt to ascertain the purpose of this. So far, our intelligence, sourced from Jazz's contacts have failed to give us any reason why Megatron has ordered this be built. I have calculated five thousand and twenty six possible purposes that this project has been undertaken".

"Obviously, Prowl, we don't have time to entertain all five thousand and twenty six reasons, do you have a list of the most logical of those?"

Magnus expressed.

"Yes, I anticipated the time constraints of such a lengthy report as to the Decepticon mindset behind this project. I have calculated the four most likely reasons is one, Megatron has limited resources and the purpose for this is a search and retrieve mission, two, Megatron is aware of the Ark and this vessel's purpose is an interceptor, three, Megatron sees a strategic initiative in sending out troops to establish other bases, perhaps on the moons, and four, all three of those reasons have been considered in Megatron's planning processes".

"And do we currently have any information pertaining to the shuttle and its size?"

Optimus inquired.

"Currently, no. We are going by what Elita and yourself have reported regarding this, hence the reason I have dispatched Bumblebee. There are several other operatives that have initiated their own missions with the aforementioned purpose".

"I guess the biggest question that's on everyone's CPU, is there a chance of us launching a successful attack?

Kup asked.

"I calculate a 97.421% of failure if we attack the shuttle post its completion compared to a 31.08334% of failure if we attack during their construction phase. Currently, Megatron has underestimated our intelligence and is summarily unaware of our knowledge of his latest project; therefore, an attack now would illicit higher success rates with a lower rate of causalities. It is evident from past instances that Megatron will increase security as the shuttle nears its completion as the fuelling process and energy required for the final moments will be detectable to our scouts. The fact you and Elita were able to access the construction site undetected is evidence of this".

"Alright, so from here on in it's the planning stages for an assault against this shuttle. In the meantime I suggest we keep this info to ourselves, and plan without the knowledge of those outside this room. This could be one of the big strikes we need against Megatron and we can't risk throwing that away by informing the wrong person".

Optimus stated.

"And what about Ironhide, we'll need him for the weapons allotment for these missions".

Jazz suddenly asked.

"Not to mention, the on going stocking of the Ark's defence and offence systems. His expertise are vital to the success of this mission. At the risk of sounding callous, Chromia isn't going anywhere".

Prowl said simply.

Prime gave the body language that he was considering these things as a friend more then a commander.

"We will allow Ironhide the time he needs to care for Chromia. He is a mech of duty and I believe he will eventually realise his primary concern is for the Ark and its launch. Chromia would have understood this also".

They couldn't really argue with Prime, no matter how cold his voice actually came across as.

Prime finished off with a few more orders to the officers seated around the table before dismissing them. Prowl and Magnus left together.

--

"What does that keen analyser believe?"

Magnus asked as the two walked down the quiet corridor towards the Ark's construction bay.

"It tells me to consider even the most illogical of probabilities as logical, and one such illogical conclusion is that Prime attacked Chromia, and that is why he is giving Ironhide the time he needs with his mate. Should Chromia offline or Ironhide finds himself with other options for his time dispensing he may use some of that to investigate the attack, he could very easily discover what we have and cannot prove conclusively".

"Indeed".

"At the risk of sounding indecisive and… how shall I say… _pessimistic, _what do you think is the best course of action surrounding this? Do we continue with the agreed upon plans and simply assimilate this recent event into our itinerary or do we change things completely?"

"Prowl, we have a situation on our hands that is neither pleasant nor beneficial to the Autobot war effort. Chromia was an excellent solider and Ironhide's skill is better spent in our armoires not in the repair bay mulling over a femme who's CPU is for the most part, destroyed. I would like to say that it is our duty and that it is right to out Prime's extra curricular activates, however, we must look at the long term and the broader picture, which, sadly, does not involve sparing a femme from domestic abuse or gaining justice for another. Elita's benefit from the Ark's launch was a bonus. Now we must simply cover up this mess to protect the Autobot mindset from such a morale blow".

Prowl stopped and hung his head down in shame for a moment. Magnus stopped, turned, viewed his sub-ordinate.

"There is no honour in what Prime does, in what he has done, but the Autobot effort hangs by a thread, to snip that thread with the reality of what their leader really is after so many millennia of believing what he stands for is what the Autobots stand for… well… it is simply not acceptable. We must hurry the Ark's launch, we must destroy the Decepticon shuttle, and we must be absolutely sure we cover Prime's filthy tracks".

"I am a mech of logic and reasoning commander, and I can justify your actions with statistics, but even I must step back and say this is getting a little too amoral for my liking".

"Amoral indeed it is, my young friend, but this is war, and such moral repugnance is found in war. Whether Prime is just scum or a product of war is debatable, and one debate we cannot afford ourselves".

Magnus sighed.

"Do not get me wrong, Prowl, I hate every damn part of this mess. I will carry the guilt of knowing I could have stopped this a long time ago, but I didn't, and now innocent femmes have to live with the consequences. The only thing that gets me through the cycle is knowing its for the greater good of all Autobots. I'm sure Elita would accept and agree to such treatment if she knew freedom for all Transformers would result from it".

The two acknowledged each other's words for a moment before Magnus gave the final comment between the two before they reached their destination:

"We best continue, least our tardiness gives cause for our fellows to ponder".

--

Optimus returned to his office, a new equally large pile of digipads and files of all assortments stacked neatly on the corner of his desk. He sighed, sat down and began to work through them, the monotony of such work taking his mind off the troubles on the home front… but of course… it still sat in the back of his CPU, he sighed irritably and put down the file he was reading.

He got up from his desk and broke into his secret stash of energon goodies, underneath which was a stack of _questionable _mech's magazines, most of which had been confiscated from those in his ranks who felt the need, as Prime put it, "to objectify our wonderful and valuable fighting femmes". It was all crap, he just made "spot inspections" when his stash was getting tired. Slumping back into his chair he retracted his battle mask, tossed in a handful of energon goodies and started "reading the articles".

He reached a magazine he hadn't browsed before, and was quite happy to perv upon the young femme splayed across the centre fold. She reminded him of a young Aerial, only the femme in the magazine was of different colouring, and her helmet was slightly different. Of course, Prime realised, her helmet wasn't what he was looking at. Another mouthful of energon goodies and he found himself getting annoyed that he couldn't get Elita out of his head.

"Damn".

He grumbled as he slammed the magazine down on the desk. Thoughts of his bond mate overwhelming his need for release.

What to do about this pregnancy was the question that was rolling around his CPU now. A question he'd rather not focus on.

There were really only two options and one of them would be very public. If the forces saw him with a sparkling, being a father, they'd likely respect him more! They'd be impressed with his work-life balance. They'd be jealous that he had a femme and a family. On the other side of that coin, was that Elita would be stuck with him. No one in their right mind would allow Elita to leave with _his _sparkling. She'd be stuck with him. No escape. Her tantrums would end, she'd be his forever. The sparkling, well, who cared about how that little speck turned out?

All the congratulations, all the praise, all the attention, all those good things and comments and gifts a sparkling would bring the father. Yes, it would serve him nicely.

And if the Decepticons got wind of it, and decided to "get to Prime" through the Sparkling, well, no great tragedy. Optimus would have a moral high ground seldom granted to a commander in a war zone. Oh, and if the desire took him, Elita could pop out a few more.

Yes. This pregnancy was a good thing. He was going to have treat Elita a little nicer, get her all happy and swooning and reminiscing over the love they had once shared. Get her to go ahead with it. Of course, once she was obviously pregnant she couldn't just head on in to ' Aid's abortion mill and get the little bastard ripped out of her, everyone would know what she had done… actually… if Elita did terminate, he could use that against her. While a few femmes were all for the right to terminate, the vast majority were all about the right to function. Hahahah! And what of the Decepticons? Megatron hated termination; he thought it was so cowardly, to take out a sparkling that couldn't even defend itself. The femmes with the purple insignia also bore the same opinion. Elita would be a giant target, maybe not from lasers but a harsh bitchy commentary! Also, Prime would be able to play the grieving father, oh, poor Prime, all he ever wanted was a sparkling, they would say, and he finally gets gifted with one and that witch of a supposed bondmate of his, that whore Elita, she went and _murdered _that poor sparkling! That bitch! Poor Prime! A few sobbed whispers from Prime into the audios of a close friend in audio shot of others would have the news around planet within a cycle, Elita had killed his baby. It would be priceless!

Laughing out loud, another handful of energon goodies and another magazine of cheap strumpets, life was good!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Minding his own business was not really a phrase many would use to describe him. However, at this exact moment in time, that's what he was doing. He had finished his shift and it had been a busy shift. There was the small Decepticon scouting party that got too close to an outlying base which he had to help co-ordinate the interceptors, which annoyed him as he preferred to be in the thick of the action. Then there was the small explosion, which at first everyone panicked and thought was the Decepticons launching a full scale assault and the scouting party was simply a diversion, it had turned out to be Wheeljack who had initiated the explosion with the comment "I bet I could increase the output of this energon goodie dispenser if…" The news that Chromia had been attacked filtered through near the end of his shift which sort of dropped the mood of everyone after the amusing antics of Wheeljack. And of course, there was the lengthy report he had been instructed to write detailing the events of the shift – something told him it was his CO's sick sense of humour.

Suddenly he found himself on the floor of a side maintenance cupboard looking up at a shadow draped figure.

"Wha?"

Instinct kicked in and he lunged out at the ominous form, which anticipated his movements and easily pinned the young mech down.

"Calm yourself, Hot Rod".

"Elita One?"

He was truly stunned.

"Yes".

"With all due respect, commander, what the Pit are you doing?"

"I thought it would have been obvious".

She kissed him.

"COMMANDER!"

He squealed as he felt her hand slid down to a latch on his armour.

"Please, Hot Rod, don't make this complicated, I _need _this".

"You have a husband! This is wrong! Its adultery! Not to mention… you have a husband… and he'd deactivate me… slowly… painfully".

He unceremoniously shoved her from his frame and stood up quickly.

"I'm sorry; Elita, Commander, but I can't do this!"

"Why should you have concerns? You aren't bonded, and Optimus, well, what he doesn't know can't hurt you".

"He'll find out!"

"Why? Would you be foolish enough to tell him?"

"Of course not… but that's not the point!"

"And what's the point… are you worried about Arcee?"

"Wha… what?"

"Oh, don't act so naïve, I've seen how you look at her, how your optics scan her when she's in your company. Good friends, yes, but you desire more".

"Yes… but… I mean no… we're just…"

"Don't lie to yourself, Hot Rod, I know you want me, I know you fantasize about me, and you can have me".

"Please, Elita, don't make me do this…"

"And why not?"

"Because… you're bonded".

"We've discussed this already".

"No. You fobbed me off when I brought it up! Maybe if you were some other femme with some other husband, but you're not some other femme, you're Elita One commander of the female Autobot forces and you just so happen to be bonded to one of the greatest Autobot leaders we've ever had! I don't want to ruin a bonding. I don't want to be "the other mech". I don't want to break Optimus' spark, it could cause him to loose us the war. Not to mention I'd be more hated then Megatron! I'm sorry Elita… I can't do this".

"All of those things would carry weight if you told someone, but if you keep your vocaliser shut, no one will ever find out".

"These things have a way of getting out".

"How?"

"How do you think!"

"Well, if you don't keep your voice down for starters…"

"Elita, please, all I wanted was to be your friend. To fantasize about you from a distance and in the privacy of my own berth, not actually… wel… you know?"

"Oh, yes, I do know. So your loyalty to the Autobot cause is superseding your desire for me?"

"Yes".

"Then I _order _you to".

There was a hint of a smirk on her face plates.

"Please…"

He whispered.

"I know you want me. Just once. Just here. Just now. And we can leave it at that. How's that for a compromise? And if you like it, if you desire it again, we can do it again. Its up to you".

"Its up to me, is it? Then why are you blocking my way out? And I thought I made it clear I can't do this?"

"Don't be a silly little mech, you sound like a virgin femme bot! Just do this. You won't regret it".

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but what about when Prime finds out?"

"And again with Optimus finding out, will you leave Optimus to me!"

"It sounds like you can't even control Optimus since you're trying to rope me into this. I don't know what game you're playing at, Elita, I don't know what state your bonding is in that you're considering this, but I don't want any part of it. Now get out of my way… ma'am".

She stepped aside and he walked passed into the corridor.

"I will tell Optimus you raped me if you don't".

"WHAT?"

He literally screamed it. His vocaliser producing a pitch he was sure a mech couldn't produce. Hot Rod turned and faced her, his optics flashing his mouth dropped open, fear etched on his features.

"Who do you think will be in trouble then? Who do you think will believed? The lowly Autobot whelp of a solider, a grunt or the femme commander, the bondmate of the greatest Autobot leader, Optimus Prime".

She could see from the look on his face, the way his optics flickered slightly that his CPU was working overtime to imagine all the possible ways Optimus would offline him if _such _a rumour got out.

"Just once?"

"Just once".

He replied, hanging his head. Defeated.

"You're allowed to enjoy it, you know".

She said as she led him back into the closet.

--


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's NB: **I am building to something, and it is nearing completion.

--

**Chapter Twenty-One**

She sat on the couch.

Her face wet with tears.

It had not helped.

She had hoped that mindless, no strings attached, forced interfacing would make her feel better.

Give her more power.

Make her feel less like she was falling down a deep abyss.

It hadn't.

All it had done was put a distance between herself and a young mech who only wanted friendship. A distance she didn't' think she'd ever be able to close. And would she want too?

She wiped a tear as the doors opened.

Prime stood there. His optics narrowed.

"What are you whinging about? Its my life you're destroying with your filthy sparkling".

Elita lifted her head up to face him, a look of absolute horror etched in those blue optics. A sob escaped her vocaliser and she was up and running to the closet to hide. She heard his laughing as she activated the lock from the other side.

"Why do you treat me like this?"

She wept from the closet.

"Because you deserve nothing less then the most horrid treatment, you wretched bitch".

"Why? WHY!"

"Haha! Elita One, you are nothing special, you were just there at the time. You're a convenience to me. I could have any femme I want".

"Then why don't you leave! If you could have any femme you want, why me?"

"Because, you stupid worm, it'd make me look bad if I just left you!"

He paused.

"Of course if you had a termination… then everyone would see me as the one to pity, not the silly, careless femme who fell".

"How dare you!"

She screamed as she opened the door and stood in front of him.

"How DARE you!"

She slapped him.

It wasn't a good idea.

He responded with a balled fist to her face, followed with a knee to the chin as she fell down.

He looked down at her unconscious form.

"A smack to the face won't make you miscarry, be thankful for that much".

Prime left the quarters.

--

Optimus sat himself in the rec room, surrounded by all manner of mechs and femmes alike wanting to be in the presence of the great Autobot leader. He was quite enjoying himself, joking and telling stories and listening to equally amusing antics from his fellows. In public he was very weary and controlled about how much high grade he part took of. Primus forbid he say something he might regret while under the influence.

Kup came from another table and joined him, and together with Ironhide a story about a battle from long ago began. And with each statement the battle grew to be the biggest in Cybertronian history. It was a pure exaggeration and the memory of the battle did not match the story that so many admirers were now in awe of.

The night's festivities wore on, a femme ended up on the officer's table with her armour off, quite happy, and quite over energised to not care about who saw her assets. Prime made a mental note to never promote her, but also to call her to his office for a "de-briefing" in the next few days. Bluestreak ended up so drunk that Jazz and Trailerbreaker ended up carrying him out of there, with a Hound laughing loudly. Beachcomber had drunk his fair share and was happily passed out in the corner between two equally drunk and comatosed femmes. Elita would not be happy if she saw her troops in this manner – and she wondered why they weren't respected as warriors, they couldn't even hold their high grade!! Prowl showed up at one point said something to Brawn who laughed loudly and then slapped the tactician on the back. Perceptor walked in, took one look at Beachcomber, shrugged and said something about the geographical surveys being required within two cycles. The rest seemed to be a blur, who came and went, mainly because he had no concern for the nameless, faceless mechs and femmes who came, got drunk and either crawled or were carried out. The highlight of the night seemed to be when Warpath said something ill-advised to Springer and a fight broke out. At first it was "all in good fun" until Magnus showed up and Prime had to fake an interest and assist in breaking up the fight. The two participants ended up in the brig. But not for too long as Magnus explained later they needed all the mechs they could get, and Warpath and Springer were both good sorts to have in a battle.

And of course, there were the antics of the twins, which Ratchet begrudgingly assisted in cleaning up, with a string of profanities being yelled out the whole time, which put a smile under Prime's battlemask.

Life was good indeed.

Near the end of the events Blaster entered. He looked concerned. He looked about the room until he spotted Prime.

"Commander, a word please?"

"Is it important?"

"Yes, Commander, but so much so I don't want to utter it here".

Blaster was seldom "serious" so Optimus took it to mean there was something that needed to be done.

The two stood outside the doors to the rec room, and Blaster looked at his leader for a few moments, regarding the much larger mech. Blaster was one of Prime's most loyal, and his loyalty to the Autobot cause could never be questioned.

"Optimus, I am so sorry to have to show you this… but…"

He handed Prime the small portable vid screen. On it was a paused image of a corridor.

"What is this, Blaster?"

"Its security footage, taken from a corridor, doesn't matter where, but it was this afternoon. The footage… well, I think you need to see it".

Prime activated it and watched as he saw Elita walk down; she stood in a small darker closet where she was out of view. Then a few moments and a few mechs later Hot Rod passed. The pink femme grabbed the younger mech and pulled him into the closet. Several moments passed, which Prime fast forwarded. And then Hot Rod left, he looked rather… well… _pleased with himself_… and then Elita, a few moments later, re-steadying her chest plating and her…

"Elita…"

Prime hissed, he slammed the vid screen into Blaster.

"Prime?"

Blaster called after the Autobot leader.

"Not a word, Blaster, not a word. And destroy _that_".

He ordered. Blaster shuddered. He didn't want to be either Elita or Hot Rod at this moment. It was the end of a bonding and that was always a tragedy. Prime loved Elita, he'd never hurt her, never, and Hot Rod, well, he might earn himself a bit of smack around. But Prime didn't work like that, the younger one might just end up on some out in the middle of nowhere colony doing the most menial and boring task imaginable.

But still, it was tragic.

--

Hot Rod was reclining on his berth. He had a lot on his CPU. Most, well, all of it was about Elita. Part of him wanted to interface with Elita, that was the part of him that was ruled by desire, but his logic processor would always prevent it, Elita was bonded. To Optimus Prime. Plus, it was just plain wrong. And while the connection made between them in that closet had been under duress, and against his wishes… at first… he couldn't deny that by the end of it he had found some enjoyment. This was where his confusion was, did he like it because it was Elita, someone he had a crush on, or did he like it based on some physical sensation?

The door to his quarters opened, which was odd as it was locked…

"Commander Optimus Prime!"

He squealed as he jumped to attention as the larger mech, with fiercely growing optics… the kind of optics that told him a secret was discovered…

"Words, Hot Rod".

"Ah… what do you mean? Sir?"

"Do you take me for a fool? Do you think you're little mech CPU can outsmart me? I don't have the intelligence of Perceptor but I didn't come down in the last meteor shower! I have security footage of you and Elita!"

"Oh! Prime! Please let me explain…"

"Go ahead, Hot Rod. I would love to hear the explanation as to why you saw fit to fuck my wife".

"She… she made me do it!"

"Are you saying she raped you?"

"Um… well… I wouldn't quite put it like that?"

"Then how would you put it, Hot Rod?"

"Ah… um… well… you see…"

"No, Hot Rod, I don't".

"Prime! I'm so sorry! I didn't want to!"

"I you were sorry, you wouldn't have done it".

Prime was strangely calm in his vocalisation.

"Please don't kill me".

Hot Rod whimpered, somewhat sheepishly.

"Oh, Hot Rod, I'm not going to kill you… that would be too easy. I have other plans for you".

Optimus grabbed the younger mech by the upper arm and led him out of the room.

It was about five minutes before Prime said something to Hot Rod as he literally dragged the younger mech along.

"I understand you have a soft spot for Arcee?"

"Um… yeah, kinda".

"But instead of pursuing her, you took my wife?"

"I wouldn't put it like that… exactly".

"Don't play games with me, boy".

They reached a familiar looking corridor.

"Where are we going?"

Hot Rod asked.

"Don't you know?"

Hot Rod didn't answer as he realised they were standing at Arcee's door.

Prime reached out and banged loudly on the door.

A few moments later it opened. Arcee stood there, looking rather tired.

"Hot Rod… Commander Optimus Prime, Sir!"

She saluted.

"At ease solider. May we come in?"

"Of course…"

Prime shoved Hot Rod into the room and then entered. He made sure to lock her doors securely so there would be no interruptions.

"Now, Arcee, I'm sorry to disturb you at such an hour, but we need to have a conversation with you about some certain things".

"What sort of certain things, Sir?"

"Well, it has come to my attention that Hot Rod has a crush on you, isn't that true Hot Rod?"

"Yes… sir… ah… hehe, Arcee".

He looked down.

"Hot Rod? Oh, that's so sweet! You should have said something earlier, I would have loved…"

Prime cut her off suddenly.

"But you see, Arcee, the problem is, that instead of pursuing you, Hot Rod saw fit to, how did you say… rape my wife?"

"Hot Rod?"

Arcee took a step back, a look of dread creeping over her face.

"Optimus! I never said that I raped Elita!"

"Oh… really?"

Prime then spun around and smashed his fist into the boy's face, knocking him to the ground.

"I believe in a form of punishment that even Megatron won't touch. When someone hurts you, you hurt them by hurting someone they care about".

He grabbed Hot Rod up and broke both his arms; he yanked a length of hydraulic cable out from his left and used it to tie the young mech to the berth. Optimus then turned to face Arcee.

"If you say anything, to anyone, you'll both end up in the smelter, along with ten of your closest friends and family".

He grabbed Arcee and threw her violently to the ground. He pulled her up and spun her around so her face was pushed into the berth, and she was uncomfortably positioned on her knees. She flailed out with her arms in an attempt to find some manner of freedom. What she found was two powerful hands yanking her arms out of their shoulder sockets.

"You rape my femme, Hot Rod, I rape your's".

--


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's NB: **Okay, the story is starting to wind down now, probably only a few and a bit chapters too go. Mainly cos I want to get this finished before I start in on my "TF Christmas" story, and I don't want to be thinking of Prime laying the smack down on his missus while I'm trying to write something _hopeful._

Thanks for the reviews, though.

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

The Autobot leader transformed. He stood alone in one of the most derelict parts of Cybertron, not even the neutrals or the abandoned malfunctioning ventured here. It was bleak, void of any resources and rather… sad. It had once been the site of one of the greatest cities on Cybertron. Their former capitol. The seat of Cybertronian government had once resided here. Their most prestigious university and research labs, the most valued pieces of art sat in the largest and most respected museum and gallery. Their film industry had its base here also. When the Decepticons attacked, it was this city that fell first. Megatron pulled the smaller Con groups together for this assault.

Now, the only occupant here was death.

OF course, occasionally mechs would venture here, but usually only with a few intentions, either to offline themselves, engage in the purchasing or participation of illegal or, usually both, immoral activities or sometimes, what Prime was here for.

"I didn't think you would show".

"I was thinking the same of you".

The new comer replied.

"Were you able to decode my message, to determine what it is I want?"

"Yes. Though I must say I was intrigued, I know Ratchet won't perform such operations given his staunch moral standings… hehe, but I was under the impression that the younger doctor… First Arse does".

"First Aid".

"I know what I said".

"And what do you say to my proposal?"

"In exchange for my _medical _services for your wife, you provide me with the intelligence".

"Megatron will want to know where you sourced it, and if you tell…"

"If I tell him its from you he won't believe it. I'm no fool, Prime and nor's Megatron. He's very paranoid about this, the construction of that shuttle, so much as a mechano-mouse fart in its direction will have him doubling security".

"Then we _have _reached an agreement?"

"I believe we have".

The two shook hands as was customary.

"I still don't trust you".

Optimus replied.

"Its not really going to effect you if you trust me or not… is it, Prime?"

"I guess not".

"Now, about this information".

"Not until the surgery is completed".

"We had this discussion via the comm. you promised me information at the meeting".

"I would believe you would go straight to Megatron as soon as I uttered it, and my problem with my wife would continue".

"It would, but then what's to say you won't break my faceplates open once I've performed the surgery?"

"I'm an Autobot, my word is law, it is my honour".

"Ahaha! Optimus Prime! If you had any honour any respect for the law would you be out here, obtaining such services from me, of all Decepticons?"

"I suppose not".

There was silence between them. A lonely wind brushed along the surface of the dead city, a few light shards of scrap metal were picked up and scraped along a few metres.

"What of a compromise, I give you some information now, and the rest after the surgery?"

"I guess that's the best we can agree upon, very well".

"We know where the shuttle construction is taking place. We are planning an attack. We haven't gotten around to the nitty gritty of it yet, but our tacticians and officers are working on it. We should have a working attack plan within the next few cycles. After which, I can't be certain when we will strike. But we will be including a large compliment of troops".

"You'll have to do better than that".

"I am about to give a command to Ultra Magnus to take a group of younger troops off world, to an Autobot base in the EngXaree system. For further training and scouting missions, is the official line".

"What are the co-ordinates?"

"You can have those after the operation".

"You drive a hard bargain, Prime, but something tells me your problem is worse then my need for info. I agree to your terms. Where do you want the operation to take place, I doubt Ratchet will allow me to borrow his med bay for a few breems".

"I will bring her here".

"A bit of a grubby location, isn't it?"

"Don't you worry yourself with the location, just be sure you're here with whatever instruments you need".

The Decepticon grumbled a few curses and turned, transformed and drove off, yelling back that he would be there.

Optimus stood in the shadow of the ancient structures, and mourned inwardly for a moment as he realised how bad the war was and what damage it had done to their once great civilisation.

Things would get better though.

--

Breem – 8.3 minutes. As found in Marvel and Dreamwave comics.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"Ultra Magnus, I need to discuss something with you".

"Of course Prime, what is it?"

"I didn't want to bring this up at the meeting earlier and I feel its best left between ourselves at this time, simply because of the nature of this mission and the impact it could have on our current morale".

"I understand, commander".

The two most high ranked Autobots entered into a private side room.

"I've been considering this mission for some time, and have even discussed with Alpha Trion, he and I are in agreement on this. But of course, we're not the only Autobots fighting this war and neither of us are intended for this mission".

"Well, Prime, if Alpha Trion has a good opinion that this mission should go ahead, then who am I to argue?"

"Yes, well, I'd like to run it by you first. To gauge your opinion. I think it would be in everyone's best interest if we split our numbers. Now, a relatively small contingent and I am heading off in search of energon on the Ark. That will take myself away from the main force, and they have dealt with that. Its raised morale in the way that we believed it would, as it gives us all hope that we will have enough resources to continue this fight. However, we both know that resources are not enough to win a war, that's why I want you to take a group of some of our greener recruits and a few of our more valuable scientists and head off the to the EngXaree system".

"The EngXaree system? But Prime, there's nothing there!"

"I know Magnus, which makes it a perfect place to set up a small outpost. You can begin to train the new recruits there. The Decepticons have no interest in that place because its too far from Cybertron and the resources from that system are… well…"

"Completely void".

"Exactly. You can venture via the Azlogir system and pick up the resources you need. Sideswipe once made comment that he had fellow merchants who owed him numerous favours".

"Yes, I'm aware of Sideswipe's connections in that system. Its where he sources that questionable high grade".

"Indeed, but it provides us with an ability to source energon for your mission. There's a small moon that orbits the dead sun of that system, it will make an excellent spot for a base, especially given the magnetic fields of the surrounding dead worlds will protect your activities from any prying optics".

"It sounds as if you've given this a lot of thought".

"As I said, Alpha Trion and I have given it a good deal of discussion. We even have a list of soldiers you can take".

"Such as?"

"Hot Rod for one, he's rash absolutely, but he's also got a lot of potential, I feel that under your command he can mellow a bit. Also, Springer, it'd be useful to have the wrecker under your command, he can assist in the training. Kup would be a good choice for your second and Arcee, both as a requirement to protect our femmes and because of her unique abilities in the field of espionage".

"They are obviously logical choices".

"I have refrained from discussing this with too many as I feel that such information if it were to fall into Decepticon hands could be detrimental to our mission. If we have you launch at the same time as the Ark, then the Decepticons if they are planning an intervention launch, well, they'll have a hard time chasing two vessels".

"Who is your choice to remain here on Cybertron in command?"

"I had given consideration to Alpha Trion, but he is too old for such a mission. But he will still be active in the remaining force as an advisor. I don't believe fighting for Cybertron on Cybertron will be our best way of winning this war. I believe we've reached a time in the war where we need to branch out and increase our bases and energy resources, then focus on reclaiming Cybertron. In the meantime, I believe either Glory Strike or Rush would be good selections".

"Glory Strike would be a good choice yes, he has experience, but he also tends to work better on his own, I don't know if I could see him leading. And Rush, well, Rush is too inexperienced and too much of a "party animal".

"Yes, I know. But both mechs need an opportunity to improve their strengths and work on their weaknesses, and neither would be thrown completely in the deep end".

"Have you discussed this with Prowl?"

"Not as yet, I wanted your opinion first".

"Hmmm".

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest more from contemplation then any frustration with Optimus' idea.

"I think the plan has some definite positives, but its downsides are serious. But in the long run, I think perhaps you are correct. I have often gone by the mantra that consistency is victory, but the Decepticons are wising up to our time tested tactics, perhaps a change of pace is needed. And if the Decepticons are being led off world by Megatron, well, you're the only one who can stand against Megatron and so you are definitely required to head that mission. Chances are he'd take that back stabber Starscream with him to keep an eye on him. Shockwave would be the likely chance for command on Cybertron, and he'll tend to just keep things ticking over as opposed to launching an all out assault against our forces, no matter how small they might be. Shockwave wouldn't risk the energon expenditure until he had Megatron's newly sourced energon in his sticky little hand".

"My thoughts exactly".

The two regarded each other for a few moments of silence.

"I think I can agree to this Prime. Do you want me to discuss this with Kup and Prowl, maybe we can get something nattered out".

"Exactly what I was hoping you'd do. I have something I need to attend to, I must excuse myself".

Prime stated. The second in command nodded and Optimus left.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's NB: **Welcome to a less then pleasant chapter. Rather nasty content and violence ahead… well… more nasty and violent then previous chapters.

If you are reading this and you're under age, naughty girl/boy! Go back to watching SpongeBob and playing with your Twilight Barbies before your mummy and daddy catch you!

--

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Get your aft off the couch, you're coming with me".

Elita looked up at her husband as she lay there, her hands folded across her abdomen, trying to sense if her sparkling was large enough to illicit a movement that could be noticed. Of course, mechanically, she knew it wasn't the case this early on.

"Going where?"

"Alpha Trion wants to see us, both of us".

"Really?"

Elita sat up slowly and spun her legs around. She might not have liked Alpha Trion, but the old bastard had ways of making one sorry if they disobeyed and order, and this sounded like an order. Prime was never too keen to see the old coot either, though a lot of his personality traits mirrored those of his "upgrader". Indeed, Alpha Trion had created Optimus Prime, but Optimus Prime had come from Orion Pax, and his creator had been no one special. Just some low level maintenance worker, and even then that was probably giving him too much credit. From Elita remembered as Aerial, Pax's creator was a violent mech with a violent temper who was more then happy inflicting any brand of misery on any one stupid or weak enough to get in his way. He simply swept up parts and kept the workshop of his employer clean.

"Yes, really, now hurry up".

Optimus turned and walked out, the pink femme following suit.

Prime marched quite steadily and with quite a lot of his usual presence through the corridor. Mechs and femmes alike of all ranks knew to get out of his way when he had that demeanour about his body language. Elita walked behind him with the same appearance. Obviously, those who saw them thought, they were going somewhere very important and the Autobot effort depended on them getting there unimpeded by the miniscule issues of the lowly grunts.

Outside Iacon they transformed and drove, Prime taking the lead, as was usual.

--

They'd been travelling about ten breems when Prime pulled to a stop. They were in the general direction of Alpha Trion's secret base, but they were still not close enough that they could just transform and walk. Prime unfolded from his truck mode and turned to face Elita.

"Stay in vehicle mode, there is something I must do… a security measure if you will".

"Of course Prime".

She waited there as Prime disappeared off into the shadows that existed between the remains of two once very stylish upper class apartment buildings. Part of her was nervous that he had gone in there, what was the point? Was he meeting someone? This was Autobot territory; sure there'd be no Decepticons out this way? Maybe he was…

Before she had time to finish the thought Prime came running up from behind her, he leapt upwards and balled both his hands into a colossal fist, which he proceeded to drop down on her bonnet. The force of the blow knocked her into stasis. Optimus stepped off the unconscious femme in vehicle mode and he transformed, a claw like appendage emerged from his trailer and towed her inside.

--

"I can't do this thing if she's in her damn vehicle mode, you gotta trip her wiring so she transforms".

"Bloody helpful you are!"

"Look, just reach in there and bypass the transform circuits, just be careful not to touch the casing around the zeonnizn relay board".

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, 'con".

"You know, sarcasm is the lowest form of humour".

"I might agree with you if I had been being sarcastic, now shut up".

"Oh, and so polite also… look, she's coming around on her own".

"Good. I was hoping she'd be awake for part of it. I'd like her to remember each and every precious little moment she has with this wretched glitch".

"Has anyone ever told you you'd make a great father one day?"

"Yes, but only when my rifle was pressed against their head casing, which is something you'll experience if you don't shut up and do your job".

"Just offering some of my empathic bedside manner".

"Ratchet instils more empathy into his demeanour then you".

"Ooh, ouch, you really know where to jab where it hurts, don't cha Autobot?"

"Wha… what's going… on? Optimus?"

"Transform, Elita, it'll make it easier on you".

"Easier on me, don't you mean".

"Shut up Decepticon".

Elita, half awake and half in the world of stasis obeyed without really questioning why.

"Excellent, can you start the procedure now?"

"Sure".

"Actually… just give her a few moments, I want her awake and fully aware. Nothing like being half in stasis to corrupt the memory banks with misinformation".

The Decepticon laughed and took a step back towards his case of instruments and began to rearrange their position on the rust covered table.

Optimus stood over his wife and grinned widely under his mask.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head".

Her optics flickered on to full power and she was started to notice the environment she found herself restrained in.

"What's happening? Where am I? What's going on?"

She then noticed the Decepticon.

"OPTIMUS! WHAT THE PIT IS GOING ON?"

The pink femme lurched upwards to try and get off the table, but was prevented by her own discovery of the heavy metal braces that were holding her down.

The room looked like it could have been a torture chamber of some description at some point in its bleak history. The windows, even though shattered and blown inwards, were high up where no one could enjoy any such view they may reveal. The ceiling itself was higher then usual, and the west wall had collapsed, giving the ceiling a partial slant in its direction. There was a large hole in the east wall that was marred with scorch marks. The floor was rough and broken. Piles of rubble of both furnishing and parts of bodies lay about. Various chains hung from the ceiling and walls, while there were large tables in the centre, though the one Elita found herself on was the last one to be in any semblance of good condition, and good simply meant standing unaided in this context. There was a few tables that had fallen and were damaged, but the Decepticon next to her had a little table that obviously had belonged here. He had propped it up using the arm casing of one of the unfortunate individuals to have died here.

Through the massive hole in the east wall she was able to see some part of the outside environment. The last time she had been in this place she had been Aerial, visiting the seat of government on a school trip. The remains of the greatest Autobot warrior, the one who had fought against the Quints lay collapsed outside this building, its head facing in her direction, its entire form covered with a slow acting rust.

The place was bleak. The place was dead. And she was right here in the middle of it.

"Please! Optimus! What's happening?"

"Well, Elita, you did say you wanted a termination".

The femme could hear the amusement in his voice, the same tone of amusement he used whenever he was violating her.

"No! I never wanted a termination! I just said that too annoy you! To make you angry!"

"Well, that was stupid of you, wasn't it?"

The Decepticon chimed in.

"Shut up 'Con, just prepare what you need".

"Optimus! I implore you! Don't do this! And why him?"

"Because he had a service I wished to utilise and he was the cheapest".

"First Aide would have done it for free!"

"Yes, that's true, but that pacifist coward would have blabbed it around the base".

"He never would have… even Luscinia would have been a better choice?"

"That bitch? I don't think so, whore. Now lay still, else the good _doctor _here make a mistake, and you wouldn't want that, now would you?"

"No! Prime! Please!!"

"Are you ready?"

He asked the Decepticon.

"Ready, willing and able".

"Good, then begin".

"I might need you to hold her legs apart, seeing as I need to get inside".

"Of course".

Optimus walked around and stood between his wife's legs, he tore her lower plating off revealing her to a member of the enemy's forces. He then stepped aside and the Decepticon took up place where he would find it easiest to do his work. Prime grasped her ankles and pulled them apart before thrusting them upwards so her knees were bent.

"Please! Optimus! We can work this out! Don't let him do this too me! I want our baby, oh Primus, how I want our Sparkling!!"

"Too late for that now, whore".

The Decepticon turned to the table and picked up a very rusty looking piece of pipe.

"Now, I've been told by other medics, that patients like to know what's happening to them, so I will describe it to you, step by step. And you'll have to excuse me, since I don't' have access to more modern equipment I've had to improvise on a lot of the instruments… but it shouldn't affect the outcome".

He held the pipe up so she could see it, whatever it had been in its former life, it had nothing to do with science, medicine or mechanical repair of transformers.

"First, I'm going to insert this into your interface port, this will allow me to… ah… what's that word?... I can't recall… basically its going to spread you open like a cheap sparkling's painting, that's so I can get a better look to your… ah… I don't' know the proper term for it either… but its basically where the little snot is hiding".

"Optimus! For the love of Primus! He doesn't even know the correct ".

Her screams were louder then both mechs had expected, but given their location it was certainly nothing to worry about. It wasn't like anyone was going to hear, and if someone did, they wouldn't suffer her any concern.

"Oops, I think I nicked you there".

The Decepticon laughed.

"Now, I insert this thing, I call it the "thingie-mah-jiggie-a-tron". It goes up the pipe and widens your… ah… I don't know what, but it stops the brat falling out".

Elita started to struggle, tears streaming down her faceplates as she realised she was probably fighting as much for her life as she was for her child's.

"Optimus… help me!"

"Oh, but I _am _helping you, dear, I'm helping you to realise your full womanly potential, no more will you be subjugated by this pregnancy! Isn't that the slag you femmes always rant about? Isn't this supposed to be your ticket to the liberation shuttle?"

The Decepticon held the small piece of metal that had a T on the end in front of his face.

"Hmmm, it's a bit dirty".

He wiped it under his arm pit, when the bit of grit didn't dislodge he tried to lick it clean, that not being effective either, he dropped it to the floor and scrapped it along the ground until the small speck of dried energon (from his last _patient_) slipped off.

"Right, now where was I? Oh yeah!"

The _doctor _inserted pushed the T wire up into the pipe that sat within Elita's most private of places. She could feel it when it touched the entrance to her sparkling gestation chamber. It scratched rather violently, and she was aware of him jiggling it around.

"This instrument works by providing an opening into your inside baby house".

Prime chuckled, rather evilly, at the terminology.

Elita continued to scream, both from the physical pain and the emotional distress of being so utterly helpless. A sudden screech from her vocaliser indicated to both Prime and his "service provider" that the T device was in situ.

"Right, now we move onto the fun part".

Elita was aware of something wet running down her body from her exposed port. It smelt like energon, and it was probably his.

The Decepticon turned to his table of tricks and picked up something that had a long metal handle with a fork like appendage on the end.

"I'm going to scrape the little bastard out of you now, and from what I've been told, this part hurts the most".

He rammed the device up into Elita's womb; her screams fell on the audios of none who cared. She was aware of the scraping sensation, of the massive flow of liquid from her body, indicating the sack of hydraulic fluid that the sparkling resided in had been ruptured. Something that she could describe as soft, warm and limp flopped down and landed against her right buttock on the table.

"Here it comes… hey, I forgot to ask, do you guys want the remains back… you know… for sentimental value?"

Optimus seemed to be considering it for a moment as his wife howled in anguish and physical sorrow.

"No, if we wanted it's remains then that'd mean we afford it some respect, which is odd in itself, because if we had any respect for it, we wouldn't be here, now would we, Decepticon?"

"No, I guess you wouldn't".

The Decepticon returned to his work. Going in for another scrape over with his implements.

"OH PRIMUS! PLEASE! STOP THIS!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

She sobbed.

"Well, what is it, please stop or no, don't stop?"

Prime laughed through his overt sarcasm.

Elita only proceeded to cry harder with the occasional twitch through her body as she struggled in vein against the restraints.

"Almost done".

There was a scream.

A sudden flood of energon.

And Elita lay still, her chest slowly raising and falling with an action her CPU initiated to try and cool her stressed systems.

"And that's that".

He said, yanking out the objects he had inserted.

"Is that normal?"

Prime asked, not so much concerned for Elita's health, but more for the back of his trailer.

"Yeah, they always ooze a bit of 'gon after a termy".

Prime slapped her armour over her interface port and broke the restraints.

"Now, about my payment… I believe there's some more information you have for me".

"Quite".

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, then proceeded to tell Swindle, as payment for "services rendered" all about the Ark and its mission.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Prime was no medic, but he knew enough about a transformer's body to know when something was functioning right. Millions of years in a war tended to do that to a person's knowledge level.

Elita was essentially pouring energon all over the back of his trailer, and it was relentless. He'd pulled over and splayed her legs, removing her armour, only to find the latches had broken somewhere along the process. He tossed them mindlessly aside; she wouldn't be needing them at the moment. The energon was rich and was flowing freely from her interface port. He frowned under his mask, and he certainly did it without feeling any regret for his part in all of this. Swindle was the Decepticon who had aborted the pregnancy, not him. Prime noticed a few mucky rags near an alley way, he grabbed them up, knotted them, and thrust them into the femme. He considered for a moment his options.

Turning up to Iacon with Elita in such a condition would be suspicious to say the least, and not even he would be able to talk his way out of it. Ratchet would of course slag anyone and everyone who had anything to do with pushing a femme to a back alley butcher, and Swindle was probably the worst.

Magnus and Prowl had been a little more then up front when inquiring about Chromia, Optimus knew they couldn't prove anything, but chances are they suspected something was amiss with his alibi.

The best thing would to be to just dump her near the city, then tell people he was concerned, that they had gone their own ways back from Alpha Trion (who would tell anyone who asked that Optimus had been in his company the whole time). Yeah, that was the best plan.

So, that's what brave Optimus Prime did.

He drove another few breems until he was within view of the city; he transformed, and then proceeded to toss Elita down a drain into a sewer system, which he knew like the back of his hand. He wandered along with her carried away from his body so he didn't get stained by her energon and then eventually, when he was satisfied with his location, popped the mech hole, climbed up and onto the alley above and dumped his bond mate behind a series of old rubbish bins. He returned to the sewer, back tracked, then climbed back onto the road.

--

The progression of events went rather smoothly from Optimus perspective. He returned to Autobot headquarters at Iacon. He discussed a quick matter of security with Jazz, had a laugh with Bumblebee, commented on one of Sunstreaker's latest murals – depicting a triumphant Optimus Prime atop a decapitated and disembowelled Megatron, then he had "words" with Warpath about using profanity around the minibots who were oh so impressionable. Then after ten breems, Prime made a comment to Prowl as to where Elita was, as he was sure she'd arrive back before him.

And thus began the search.

Optimus put his best "my optics say I'm worried" face on as he listened to Kup make mention of the search radius, several Autobots were sent out to find her, and it didn't take them long, less than a breem, which Prime was able to estimate himself.

From there her injured and half naked form was taken straight to Ratchet.

That's when the fun began.

And by fun, it is meant "profanity filled statements directed at anyone stupid enough to get in wrench reach of the medic".

Optimus stood by watching the medics work on his beloved. Ratchet was leading the charge, expletive filled as it was, but none the less it was efficient and the best care any injured mech or femme could hope to receive. Perceptor had already diagnosed the problem and was running further scans. First Aide spent the whole time physically doing what he was told but verbally lamenting what would drive a femme to a back alley butcher when there were perfectly capable doctors here who were willing to perform a termination – such a comment earning a rather nasty glare from the CMO, First Aid realised what that was about and simply stated:

"So instead of you, performing a competent, safe termination, you'd let a femme go and do this to herself?"

Ratchet looked First Aid straight in the optics and replied, not caring that Optimus was in audio shot:

"Do you have sympathy for someone who supplements their energon with an illegal substance and injures themselves? Do you have sympathy for the Decepticon solider who rapes and steals and destroys and then is shot for his actions? Illegal things are illegal for a reason. Any femme, or mech, stupid enough to engage in illegal behaviour earns no sympathy from me".

Prime pretended to look angry.

"And besides, Elita is the commander of the Autobots, if she wanted a termination, she could get one safely enough outside of the base and not at the hands of some moron with a piece of wire. Chances are she needs a CPU overhaul, not a termination if she's willing to do this to herself".

Perceptor hushed them both when he announced there was "retained protoform material" and "foreign matter of an unidentifiable source".

It was at that point that Ironhide came out from the side room Chromia still lay in to see what all the commotion was about. He saw his friend and CO standing in the corner looking rather (feigning) forlornly at his wife who lay on the operating table, appearing in bad shape.

"Prime, what's going on? What's wrong with 'Lita?"

Prime said nothing for a few moments, then turned his head sadly to his friend and replied:

"She went and got a termination from some butcher!"

"A termination? Elita was pregnant! Oh, Prime! I'm so sorry!"

Ironhide did something unexpected and rather out of character, he hugged the larger mech, who did not want to look awkward, hugged him back.

"I don't' know what I'll do if she offlines".

He whispered, quite impressed with himself how he genuine he sounded.

"It's okay, Prime, Elita's tough, she'll pull through! Chromia is hanging in there! They can both fight together!"

"Oh, why is all this happening to our femmes!"

Prime sobbed (again, pretending).

"I dunno, Prime, but we are damn lucky to have femmes. How many mechs can say they have a femme in their berth? In their lives? So many end up with such desperate loneliness they seek comfort in the arms of another mech… how… _unnatural, _they can't possibly be happy with that sick arrangement, but it's the only chance they've got at some companionship on those long, cold nights".

"I think our luck may be running out, old friend".

"You mustn't think like that, Prime, you gotta have hope, Elita will pull through, you'll see, then she'll be able to tell us what monster did this to her and we can put a butcher out of commission".

"And Chromia, she'll wake too and tell us who did that to her, justice will be dealt out harshly and swiftly for our wives, Ironhide, I promise you this".

"Prime".

Ratchet approached them. The energon of the femme commander up to his elbows and splattered on his chest plates.

"We're taking Elita into surgery. I need to tell you it doesn't look good. At the very least she won't ever be having a sparkling again, we will need to remove her gestation chamber. And there's already signs of an infection… it looks like a form of cosmic rust".

"Ratchet!! Ratchet!"

"Keep your cylinders on, boy. What is it?"

Ratchet growled to First Aid as he turned to face the younger doctor.

"She's waking up!"

"That's impossible, she's lost too much energon!"

"See, I told you she's tough, Prime".

Ironhide grasped his friend's arm.

"Elita… who did this to you?"

First Aid asked calmly.

"Prime…."

"Elita? Please! Tell us who did this you?"

"Op…tiiii… mussssss".

"She wants you, Prime".

Ratchet said simply.

Optimus approached his wife.

"I'm here Elita".

"Noooo".

She whispered as she drifted off into stasis again.

"I'm sorry Prime, we need to take her through, now".

Ratchet said with as much compassion as he could muster.

The Autobot leader watched as his bond mate was wheeled through into the operating theatre.

"Come sit with me an 'Mia, Prime".

"Thank you, Ironhide".

--

Optimus left Ironhide about twenty breems later when he slipped into recharge against his mate's chest. The Autobot leader was concerned, the medics had simply believed that Elita's murmurs were that of a wife calling for her husband, instead, they were that of a victim pointing out her abuser. If she woke, well, chances were it'd be all over for him. He needed to cover this up himself.

He contacted Alpha Trion, and within two breems the old one was in the repair bay, waiting with the leader for his wife to repaired.

It seemed to take forever, when it had only been one very long cycle.

Ratchet exited surgery. He had that look on his face plates that said it was a success but there was a but…

The but was Elita would never be able to have children. That she was lucky to be alive. She'd need to be kept in the repair bay for at least two deca-cycles There was a raging infection, the loss of energon had been extensive. The butcher had sliced through her interface port wall, lacerated the valve to her gestational chamber and made several large punctures in her womb, the worst of which had ruptured a vital fuel line causing the bleed; one perforation had also been so severe it had severed her linkage. She would walk again, yes, but repair work like that took time and she'd never be on her "full game" ever again. Optimus remained with the usual stoic expression he gave to all his troops in times of hardship. But there was something else to it as well…

Ratchet then added that she had woken from surgery, was up to visitors, but maybe just Prime and Alpha Trion for a few moments.

"Will it work, Alpha".

"There's no reason it shouldn't".

"And how effective will it be?"

"She will remember nothing of your part. In fact, I'm altering her memory chips to think the sun shines out of your aft".

The old one could be a nasty bastard with his jokes when he wanted to be.

"How far back will you erase?"

"How far back do you need?"

"Since after I became Prime".

"Mmm, I can change all her memories that pertain to you to be positive ones".

"And this termination business?"

"The best I can offer is that she committed adultery".

"She did commit adultery".

"Really? With whom?"

"That punk Hot Rod".

"Ahhh, then I will enter in that he was the father of her sparkling and she sought a termination with the least likely individual who would gossip".

Alpha Trion had a small device attached with wires leading into the femme commander's CPU just as Luscinia walked in.

"What are you doing? What's going on here? I don't think that's accepted practice".

"Hush yourself woman".

Alpha Trion said irritably.

"I will take care of this… _annoyance_. You finish up here".

"No! I will not let you! You've hurt Elita enough, you monster!"

The femme doctor stormed out of the room and into the main chamber of the repair bay, it was empty, but she knew that already, she knew the medics were in checking on Chromia at Ironhide's insistence. She was three metres from the room where Chromia lay, three metres from spreading the truth, from getting help, when heavy blue hands clamped over her mouth and over her chest, pinning her hands against her.

"Now now, doctor, there's no need to tell tails. Lets you and I have a little walk somewhere".

The femme continued to struggle, but she knew in her spark there was no way she could overpower the larger mech. He didn't walk her far, just into the small maintenance closet across from the entrance to the repair bay. It was seldom used and simply stored only a few barrels of a special paint needed to coat security wiring. On the floor of this nameless, unimportant closet, Optimus Prime, brave, strong, leader of the Autobots, courageous in battle and good husband to Elita One, strangled to death a young femme doctor by the name of Luscinia, but not before he raped her – a habit he was developing quite a like for. Her poor chassis would be found three days later by an unassuming grunt who was going to hide in the closet to avoid repair bay duty with everyone's favourite CMO.

ooOOoo

Several events of significance happened over the next three deca-cycles.

The Autobot raiding party failed in their attempt to attack the construction of the Decepticon vessel. Megatron had strangely and unexpectedly increased security, and significantly so. No one survived from that unit.

The shuttle "The Honour", commanded by Ultra Magnus left for a small, mindless system, with a unit of Autobots on board – heading for extra training missions and to establish an outpost for scouting purposes. Amongst the crew was a quiet femme by the name of Arcee, who had realised early on after her attack that no one would believe her claims about what Prime had done. And no one ever would. The next time she would see him would be on earth, in their designation the year 1993. For the next decade and a bit she would suffer in silence having to see that bastard every day. Her tears over his death bed were truly tears of joy.

Another young mech, by the name of Hot Rod, would gain vengeance for both himself, and Arcee.

The Ark's construction was completed and launched. Elita, repaired and functioning to a certain level would run towards it crying to come with him. Her mind not full of memories of torment and tragedy at his hands.

Chromia woke from her coma with, strangely unexplainable and unexpected, according to Perceptor, memory loss, and so was unable to tell anyone anything about the events that led her to repair bay. Ironhide was happy then to leave her with Elita and attend to his duties on the Ark.

Swindle had informed Megatron of all the information, and how he had come to gain such information. Including showing Megatron video footage of the termination procedure. Megatron was so disgusted by this, he deemed Prime be killed on spot by any Decepticon who could manage it. There was megalomania and then there was just plain mania – was how he put it to Starscream.

Optimus Prime of course, well, everything ended well for him. He launched the Ark. It crashed on earth, and four million years later he woke to be known as one of the greatest heroes the Autobot ranks had ever seen.

FIN

**Author's NB: **To be honest, I was weighing up not throwing in that last little spiel, to just leave it with Prime having killed the femme doctor. But I had always kinda intended to tie it into cannon.

Thanks for reading.


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